A/N:

Remember how I used to do diary chapters? Never forgot about 'em! Just never had a chance to squeeze another in. But now that everything's calming down a bit, I figure I can slide one in!

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Entry…

Entry….

Oh, sod it with the numbering! Today's date is Fanguary 4th.

God damn it. Since my last full entry, I've tried so many times to write something in this forsaken book. I usually stopped after one sentence…one paragraph at most.

I don't know where to start. Amity told me that my journal was a place where I could write my innermost feelings down. But I feel like I can't even comprehend my own emotions anymore.

Every day is a flipping coin-toss between overwhelming numbness and what I can only describe as every emotion all at once.

'Panic Attacks' Luz called them. Suggested I look into therapy. I want to, but, I don't think it's a very good idea to search for a therapist. I mean, What therapist would even take my case? Scuppered at the first hurdle.

Besides, with all the damage from the Day of Unity, therapists are quite busy at the minute. There are far better people who deserve it far more than I do.

Bloody hell. I'm sorry, there's so much to talk about that I don't even know where to properly start.

I suppose the best place to start is with the most pressing matter. My memories have finally returned…and I wish they hadn't.

Reading the last entry back now, it's almost comedic. In a sad way. "I am fine." I told myself. I knew it was a lie, even at the time. I was just desperately trying to convince myself that it wasn't.

I don't care how pathetic this sounds, if nobody's going to read it. My entire world feels like it's been turned upside down. Even though I only had amnesia for a few weeks, it feels like an entirely separate life. One I wish I could return too. To be blissfully ignorant.

All of my questions have been answered. I now know who brought me back. It was a lad called 'The Collector'. A cosmically-powered prince from beyond the stars.

He considers himself partly responsible for my atrocities, since he taught me the magic. Thusly, his reasoning was that if he got a second chance, I should too. If he could change, maybe I could too.

I can't speak to the thought process behind that decision. What's done is done. I've been given a second chance, even if I feel undeserving.

Luz, she…I can't help but remember her words. 'Even if you can't make it perfect, you can make it better.' It's been the only thing keeping me going these past few days.

Awful segue, but… There's been an equally massive revelation. Emperor Obron never existed, nor was there a 'Great Criminal' named Belos. It was all…me.

I was the Emperor of the Boiling Isles. I was Emperor Belos.

Obron was someone I'd come to despise. But everything he'd done…every horrid atrocity, every drop of blood spilled, every act of mistreatment done to innocent citizens…They were all done by my hands.

As much as I want to wash my hands with acid, I know the blood will never come off. The sins I've committed will follow me forever…

Caleb.

I killed Caleb.

I've been so…deep in denial about it. I kept chasing his spirit, spiraling further and further into the depths of insanity. And during my quest, I committed atrocities each worse than the last.

All in the name of…Revenge? To revive him? I don't even know. Even with all my memories, I legitimately don't understand what my own goals were.

But, now that I'm coherent, I… I…

I don't think Caleb Wittebane was the only person who died that day. Phillip did too. Now, here he is, dragged kicking and screaming out of hell and back to the land of the living.

I… Okay, I… can't linger on this subject any further lest I soak the paper in tears.

What else to speak of…oh, I'm thinking of trying to move out. Living with the Blights was supposed to be temporary, I can't keep subsisting off their undeserved kindness.

Perhaps I could move in with Hieronymus? No…No, it's far too early for that. And that would just be leeching off someone else. It would be no better.

I've thought about potentially asking Luz if I could move back into my childhood home, but… I feel like if I did, I would be living even further in the past. Besides, it's… Not my home anymore. I'm told Luz's family purchased it.

I could attempt to build one. But, with me missing a hand, it wouldn't be terribly elegant or efficient.

You know, it's funny. Thinking about it, the Boiling Isles is far more of a home to me than Gravesfield was. I spent over 300 years here. I know essentially the entire map of the Titan like the back of my hand. I've visited every settlement a hundred times over.

And yet, I tried to burn it to the ground over a petty grudge. Every beautiful and unique creature, every person who ever looked up to me.

I feel at a loss for words, I don't know what to do anymore.

What can I do to make the Isles better?

Hmm…

That reminds me. I swear, this thought is related.

I had another night terror. I was just a boy, playing with Caleb - when The Emperor captured and petrified us.

It's…not important. The night terror bit, I mean. They've been frustratingly frequent to the point where I don't even feel like journaling them, Lest this become nothing but a dream journal.

Anyway, Petrification. I know it was just a dream, but it's making me wonder.

For so long it's been held up as incurable. But, is it really so? It was a spell of my own design, I assumed as much, but - perhaps it isn't. Perhaps, with some time and effort…I could find a cure.

I shall ask the Collector…

No. I can't keep running to him to fix my mistakes. I will fix this one on my own.

I have a couple of ideas already on techniques. After all, as Caleb used to tell me - Where there's a will, there's a way.

Until next time.