The Light...we are so far from it.

Yesterday I saw the Queen of Rot. Zuggtmoy. Even writing her name I can still smell the scent of decay. In many ways seeing her was more horrifying than witnessing the rise of Demogorgon. Perhaps it was the devotion her followers showed her, shells enslaved within her hive-mind, or maybe it was watching the Drow, Sarith, ripped apart as a fungal monster clawed its way out of him. That is what has driven me to writing this journal, I'm not sure I'll see an end to this journey. Even death is not assured here, so deep in the darkness. My only moments of respite are when I feystep, those fleeting half-seconds through my home are both respite and torture. I dare say I might even miss my brother. Perhaps, between my link to the plane, and the magic wielded by my companions we may be able to open some sort of portal back. We'd only need to overcome every known principle plane shifting. In any case, that is all irrelevant, this is meant to be a chronicle of our story, a way for me to resist the madness that cloaks the Demon Lords. I fear its only a matter of time though, with the hold the Unfathomable One has on my soul. I even found myself thinking in the Abyssal tongue on my way to rejoin my companions.
 
May twice blessed Shevarash guide me and let Labelas Enoreth hold me in his favor.