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That I have been given ink is curious.

I feel these evil creatures want me to write all I can so they can show it to my kin, to prove their supremacy over the dragorn.

I must write what I can so that the truth may be known.

The Darkening was not what saw the High Council of Eight brought to its knees.

The Muramites did march us to the palace through the causeway -- the last time our loved ones and citizens would see us -- for intimidation.

Few know how we ended up in the Muramites hands though.

We had been hidden deep under Dranik in the catacombs, where all nobles and council folk are hidden during dangerous times.

We waited there when the Muramites came, fearful as we heard the roars and meeting of steel above us as our kind fought valiantly.

Then, we heard a key unlock the door near us. There were two rooms, each carried four of the High Council. Only a few were ever given keys to those doors. Only those that were are closest attendants had access.

We were betrayed.

I wonder what price they were given, or what they paid, for leading those Muramites to where we hid.

I would like to know who delivered us to those foul beasts. I watched the rest of the council get slain and I was spared, though I wish for death each passing moment.

The torture is more than I can bear, but they keep me alive as they experiment on my mind and body.

To any dragorn who find this journal -- seek out those who betrayed us. Seek them out. If they live, they may cause our kind more harm.

Look close to who we were and do well to remember us, our laws, and lessons.