One week after finding the room

22nd of Orwynne, 7253
That night, I was proud of what we had done. We pieced together the clues, opened the hidden door, and stepped into a world forgotten by history. Then we found the Nytherian spirit, still standing guard after all these centuries, and spoke with him. He led us to the fairie held in magical stasis. We did not falter. We did not flee. We walked forward boldly, carving our names—however small—into the long memory of the world.
 
Now that the dust has settled, I find myself asking a harder question: What were we thinking? Did we think at all?
 
Orren and the others swore the oath and joined the Fatebound, but how much did we truly understand? We know so little of the Fatebound's history. Less still about Lyrelle, or the fairies, or the sins that nearly ended the world. Did they not once try to summon that devouring shadow—Yoth-zith—into our world? Why, then, do we now guard one of their kind?
 
Someone guided us—guided me—to open that door. Someone who knew what was hidden below. But who? And why? Was it simply to bring Lyrelle back into the open? Were they unwilling—or unable—to join the Fatebound themselves? Their standards cannot be so high if they welcomed a handful of reckless students on little more than a whim.
 
Why did I not think to ask the guardian if others had come before us? Whoever sent that letter must have known how to find the door—surely they would have gone down themselves, if they could. No one uncovers such a secret only to leave it untouched.
 
Whoever they are, they seek to use us for something. But is it a purpose to be proud of... or a warning we were too blind to see?
 
Father always said being a Morvain meant honor, loyalty, and courage. We speak no promises we will not keep, we stand beside our allies, and we do not retreat. I have always repeated those words easily, proudly—as if they were a shield I could wear without cost. But tonight, they weigh heavier than iron.
 
We have stepped into something vast, something old, something that may shake the world to its bones. For the first time in my life, I understand that courage is not the absence of fear. It is standing firm even when every part of you wants to run.
 
I need counsel. I need guidance.
But I gave my word to keep the secret. I cannot break it.
So I walk forward, blind, and afraid—hoping that will be enough.?