I am the Chronicler known as Jon, of the Far Western Tribes of the Amazon Nation. This scrap of ink and paper could be the last story I ever tell.

The inevitable approaches, as I was forewarned. It is my sincerest hope that I should survive the coming conflict intact. Reality, however, forces me towards measures that I find both distasteful and uncomfortable. I have spent the past week in ritual, transcribing the knowledge that I hold into a less tenebrous form than my memory. The collected tomes and scrolls have been ensorcelled, and upon my death will be delivered to Princess Diana. It is only then that the protections placed upon them will fade.

I could tell of the preparations that I have made, or of the contingencies should I fail, but I am tired. I have grown weary over these past days, my mind wrung for every story and description that it contains. The only thing left to tell is the last thing to tell, the last thing any person desires before they are relegated to the everlasting darkness or light.

My name is Jon. This is my confession.

I am terrified. I am far from home, farther than any Amazon has been since Mei Li Su... and I doubt that I am ever coming back. I feel alone, adrift in this world where my mentor died with four others from a single bullet, shamed and on his knees. Where my tribe exists as a fading memory in the minds of reclusive relics, mired by time on an island of immortality.

And demons... always demons.

I apologize for the rambling nature of this last bit of literature, but there is no discipline left in me. Aside from which, only you, dear Reader, and one other, will ever know of this. This is written more for me than for you, and I'm sorry to burden you, a stranger, with the weight of my final words. They are, after all, a heavy thing.

But the demons... you must learn of them. Please... do not discard this... I am sorry...

It began two years ago. In a dimension far from here, in Japan, my mentor Claus was killed by a demon known as Zarach. I had been plumbing the depths of magical theory, and in desperation used knowledge that I was not ready for and will not write of here. Claus saved my life, and seconds later I damned my soul.

We fell through the Void Between Reality which my people call Ungültige Welt, the Null World, this demon and I. We became as one. I performed atrocities which I shall not burden you with, dear Reader, but know that they were dark as pitch and not of my own volition. Yet, though the bullet kills the man is it not the pulling of the trigger that initiates the murder? I caused the events, and thus share culpability... there was a girl, a beautiful and innocent creature that reminded me strongly of my sister Kate. She suffered most of all, this girl, and I am hopeful that this, my final penance, will allow me forgiveness.

Yet, I wander. I am so very tired; my quill is dull and the candles gutter, and I have the growing suspicion that these four Nephilim we seek are a different threat than we have been led to believe. Will I never find peace from Zarach's atrocities, I wonder?

In Jump City, California, there is a tower shaped like a capital T. Approach this tower by boat, past the warning buoys, and land upon the shore. Wait there, and you will be met by any number of strange individuals. Tell them that you have a message for Princess Diana from the Chronicler. When you meet the Princess, say the following: "I am the Messenger known as [state your full name], sent by the Chronicler Jon as demanded by the Tribal Accords. I carry the final words of the Chronicler, as he knew them. May you receive the message?"

And I hope, dear Reader, that she says 'No,' because that would mean that I am alive and succeeded in my task. You would be well-compensated and sent home. If she says 'Yes,' then I am dead and have succeeded in my task. You will be well-compensated and sent home. If I have failed in my task, then you would likely never get near the city in question. It would all be blood and shadow and flames.

But assuming she says yes, then there is little that you must do. Hand her this paper, and say to her, "He died as a true Amazon." That is all.

Although, there is one other thing.

If I am dead, then there is one who will also need a message. She will be beautiful and otherworldly. She may not be there, but you can tell any of the others that are. This is a message for Rachel, the one everyone calls Raven.

Tell her that I loved her. And that I'm sorry I could not tell her myself.

My name is Jon. I am a sinner. I am a coward.

And I am sorry.