I believe it's been quite some time.
It's difficult to say. I can't bring myself to go outside. I've thought about it, of course, but the fear is too great to overcome. So I stay here.
Most of my days are spent in the Treasury. I like to replay the scenario in my mind. It keeps me sane to remember how it happened. I still haven't figured out the order, as I have no way to test my theories.
Still, I manage to hold onto a margin of hope that there will be a way; an adventurer or a scholar of some sort that may wander by. There has been the occasional treasure seeker that has come through, but they've either fled or died before I could do any real research.
The rest of the time I stay here, hovering over my own dead body. I like to contemplate the fall. It's the closest I come to remembering what it's like to feel something physical.
Perhaps the reason that I won't leave is because I'm afraid of leaving my work before it's been finished. I was certainly getting close to the answers I sought.
I should have never taken on an apprentice. I knew he'd be nothing but trouble.
Twenty years wasted studying the Dwemer. I thought that if I were able to locate their forge, I could use what little Aetherium was left in Skyrim to create something magnificent. It was my life's work.
These thoughts occupy my time, mostly. I know that until I have my answers, I shan't move on.
I expect to be here awhile.
There is a man here.
He is a simple Nord, a drunk no doubt. He doesn't seem to know where he is. I believe he has read my journal, as he seems to know the beginning of the sequence. I've decided to watch him from afar.
He came close to figuring it out, I could tell. Unfortunately, he wasn't close enough. He is dead as well now, though his spirit has moved on from this place. I am left alone with my thoughts once more.
My faith is wavering. Perhaps I am condemned to be here for all eternity.
Perhaps it really is over.