12th August, 2006.

Sunday.

Louran.

The sand still blows through the buildings. It's quite amazing that they've managed to sty in place as much as they have. Or that looters haven't torn them down to get at the bottomless flows of precious gemstones that once sustained this town. But then again, there are stories about this 'Ghost Town'.

I don't know why I came back here. I swore to myself that I would never set foot on the European continent again.

After all, there's nothing here for me anymore.

It's so hard to believe that I was involved in such a momentous time in Earth's history. If I close my eyes, I can still see the temples of Lhasa, smell the yaks and the straw, hear the chants of the monks attending Lord Kumari.

But now the town which was once the source of all wisdom is as dead as there's shattered homes of Louran. Lord Kumari, who was both mother and father to me, died. Of what we now know to be the common cold. Brought in by tourists, no less.

Naturally, this was not a major problem, my Grandfather said. His attendants knew he would be reborn.

That was five years ago.

Now there is no Lord Kumari. And there is no First Disciple Meihou. There is nothing. Nothing remains of the golden, infant world I grew up in. In just two decades, message drums and meditation have given way to the Internet, and 'New Age' lifestyles.

I am an old woman now. Past my thirtieth year. I have seen sketches of myself as a child, before digital cameras, and I can see clearly what I knew to be true.

The light and life is slowly fading from my eyes.

I have lost my power over illusions. Once I would have walked through an idyllic town, a desert oasis, surrounded by friends and family. I would have danced with the children and spoken with the adults, and none of us could possibly have been happier.

There's no children anymore. No adults, no pets. There haven't been any illusions since Turbo, my one companion, died. I thought he would have wanted to be buried here, at home, but instead he lies in South America. What used to be Evergreen, the paradise of plants. I suppose a dead dog can have a good time with all those dead trees.

Since then, no mirages. And it's not that I haven't tried... the pictures won't come.

There are no dreams anymore.

13th August, 2006.

Monday.

Louran.

I remain in Louran, wandering the empty desert which was once the main square. As I write this, I sit against the dry well, my laptop on my right and on my left—Perel! I was amazed to see him. My hero of another world. Somehow I hadn't expected him to age, but he had. I had, too.

I'm not as melancholy as yesterday. Perel and I have talked together for hours, and I have shown him the sights of old Louran. Both of us are determined not to mention how we met, or the mysterious figure that brought us together all those years ago.

I feel... expectant. Something is sure to happen, something big. Perel and I, in this place... it is impossible to believe it is a coincidence. We are significant people, and this 'dead' town is where I, at least, began.

He will not tell me what he is doing here. I suspect he has followed me; it would not be hard for Perel, now the marketing genius behind Anita's 'Nike' label to obtain details of this dig from my colleagues. Archaeology is a difficult career to keep secret.

But I will keep the secret of why I am alone here. This time of my life when I had excuses for losing them in the desert is over. It would only be evil now.

I know it is only a matter of time before the name is mentioned. The question both want to ask so desperately.

"Have you seen... Ark?"

14th August, 2006.

Tuesday.

Louran.

Perel said it first. As I could have guessed. These Americans are so impatient.

Casually, like it meant nothing. Like it wasn't one of the most important questions man had ever asked.

"So, have  you heard from Ark lately?"

Ark...

I have not even dared to think the name for many years now. I spoke to Perel about him all afternoon and told him our adventures. Back when I was just Meilin. When the world was such a different place.

Our first meeting in Louran. My tracking him across the Taklama. Our adventures in Loire and the cold, silent Norfest Forest. Storkholm. The memories. Those days.

And... the dreams.

I cannot believe it, but I blushed to tell him. Our time in Loire, and the hotel room we shared. Of course he was too gentlemanly to take advantage of me, but oh, my dreams...

Then on, into the then-'New Continent'.

America!

Such a shock for a temple-raised girl! Liotto, an entire city devoted to perpetual celebration! If Ark had not been there, I may never have left, caught up in my own excesses. My cheeks burned again with humiliation as I described the night on Corcobad Hill, frozen like a photograph, so vivid in my memory. Ark's beautiful beloved, Elle. And my childish reaction when I realised I never had a chance.

Perel was shocked. I suppose he only really knew me after Dragoon Castle, when the lady knight, Fyda, forced me to grow up a little. He was amazed that I could be so petty. But then it was his turn for a story.

It was... moving. We both agree—those few months of our lives seem like the only real point in our existence. Everything before was just preparation, and everything after an epilogue. Faded, confused, rushed. Only that exciting time sticks in our minds with crystal clarity.

"We're not like other people."

Perel told me that today. And then he cried.

He is right. We are different. Life without Ark is just washed-out and boring. There are no adventures, nothing left to discover. No unclimbed mountain, no untapped ore seam.

There was another thing Perel said.

"I wish I had never met Ark."

I was shocked. I didn't think that this man who had grown from happy-go-lucky, streetsmart Perel was capable of a statement like that. But I empathise with him. Maybe if he hadn't been part of that heady time, the rest of his accomplishments wouldn't have seemed so... insignificant.

Myself?

I cannot say. I lived many lives when I chased after Ark. I wasn't chosen to save the world, I chose. I put myself in the position where there was no other possible choice. And I did it all for the love I bore Ark.

I told Perel that I loved Ark. Love, like life itself, was so much stronger in those days that I've never been quite sure if I've felt it since.

Poor Perel. I know he loves me. It is written all over his face.

But we are not like other people.

We spoke a great deal today. Something has been exorcised.

16th August, 2006.

Thursday.

Louran.

Perel is dead. And I am not surprised.

He came here, abandoned his empire and his billions, to chase... a memory. A mirage. A woman, a girl, who once made pictures in her head, and perhaps the only person on the planet who could understand him.

Only to find... the poor man! Only to find that she loved him. The boy who had swept through our lives like the incarnation of some god, and had left the rest of our lives a terrible, empty place.

Scientific advances, sure. But they didn't compare. Nothing compared to walking with Ark into adventure.

And now Perel is dead. Was this what I thought would happen? I think not, but I have my suspicions.

He lay in what used to be my own bedroom. By the time I found him, he was so cold. I took him—dragged him—to Louran's graveyard and scratched out a shallow grave.

I was lost in the night when Louran fell, and I was burying my parents. Mama. Papa. Please wake up... but the illusions never came. There are no more dreams in this lukewarm world of ours.

Perel has no headstone. Instead, I tore a section from one of my books and placed it between his teeth. Corpses hold no fear for me now, not after Louran.

A philosophical work. I thought he would have appreciated that irony. Nietzsche, I think.

"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him."

18th August, 2006.

Saturday.

Louran.

It is my birthday.

Thirty-four. Twenty years, almost to the day, after I met Ark. Even with Perel lying just a few feet away, I think of Ark.

Things have come full circle. Us. This place. This time. Fyda and Royd died during the assault on Beruga. Grandfather Meihou, Lord Kumari are dead. Ark and his Elle have gone home. No-one has heard from Princess Elle since Dragoon Castle. If Ark or Fyda knew, they've taken that secret with them.

And now Perel is gone.

I am the last, the very last of those touched by Ark's spirit remaining. The very last to endure these endless meaningless days, knowing it has never quite been time to lay it all to rest.

But now...

This time. This place. It is no coincidence. My life has come full circle.

Even the constellations I once saw from my yard have changed, although it hasn't been so long in their eternal estimation.  With the deaths of my travelling companions, and now my last friend, there is nothing left.

I will leave this diary inside the dry well. One day I hope someone will find it. What will the world be like then, I wonder?

There is nothing holding me back anymore. Mama... Papa... Uncle Temjin... Turbo...

And Ark...

I'll see you all... in just a little while.