Lincoln Renfield-Murray's Journal[edit | edit source]
This leather journal was found beneath a loose floorboard in the studio apartment of Nikoli Sorell. The entire journal was written in a strange language, later determined by investigators to be a dead language known as Vaelonic.
Translated Text[edit | edit source]
Today, I find myself having to set foot into shadows I never intended to dwell in again. Not after everything I’ve seen and lost, and then gained ten fold. But an old friend called for me and I must answer.
Jasper had asked me to consult on a kidnapping—a pair of fraternal twins, Calum and Emily Zener, had gone missing. They were gifted, psychically and had been brought into Candela to help a researcher at The Pharos shortly after I had left. Jasper asked me to consult.
I declined. The work, the danger—it wasn’t mine anymore. Nesta, Jacob and our unborn child deserve all of me. But Jasper’s persistence was never something I could ignore, and I agreed to meet him. I never imagined that meeting would lead me here.
Jasper is dead.
I can’t shake the sight of him. My oldest friend, lying face down in his living room, his blood pooling beneath him like some grisly halo. The smell of copper and stale whiskey clung to the air as I dropped to my knees, turning him over, hoping—praying—that I wasn’t too late. His eyes fluttered, and for the briefest moment, I thought he would hold on.
"Flasta nov mora…"
Ancient Fairen. My heart dropped when he said it, though the translation struck me only a moment later.
“We’ve been betrayed…”
Betrayed by whom? The words were his last. Enclosed in his hand was a Candela Obscura lapel pin, stuck through a bit of gray fabric. It wasn’t his. We always had a quiet laugh when we saw them… Pretentious nonsense. No, this belonged to someone else.
There wasn’t time to mourn, not properly. Jasper had always been prepared for the worst, and we shared a bond built on secrets. Behind his bookshelf, in a compartment only the two of us knew, I found a map. A strange one, old and fraying at the edges. With a set of coordinates scrawled over an area in the Glass Sea. Though there was nothing there…
Jasper’s journal, coded and cryptic as they were, confirmed the location of an uncharted island. Whatever happened to him, whatever led to his betrayal and his murder, it’s tied to this place.
There’s a connection, of that I’m certain. Whoever is behind Jasper’s death is tied to this case and to those twins. A hidden hand is moving in Newfaire, one I cannot yet see clearly. But somehow, it’s presence is familiar. The betrayal Jasper spoke of cuts deeply, not just for him, but for all of us.
I thought of reaching out to Piers, of course. He’s always been a steady voice in the chaos. But I can’t risk it. Jasper’s final warning haunts me still—someone within Candela is compromised. If I alert Piers, I may well be signing his death warrant.
No, I must walk this road, as much as it pains me to admit it.
This island, this map—it’s my only lead. Whatever horrors lie at those coordinates, I have to go there. I’ve booked passage on a private charter that will leave at the end of the week.
But first, I promised Nesta a trip to the winter market prior to the holiday. I’ll break the news of my leaving for the Glass Sea with Merrick’s three chocolate cake. It’s her favorite and it might soften the blow. At least I hope it will.
