Dearest Observer,
Taking that leap was like no other I had taken before. The wind and rain stood still, suspended in time. For a moment, I thought I might never land, that I would stay here in this feeling of anticipation. And then, just like that, my feet were on the ground again.
It felt like walking on smoke, yet beneath my heels I could hear the brittle crunch of pale grass. Though time has ticked forward again, there is an eerie stillness to this place, as if it knows it can stop whenever it wants to.
I know I am no longer in our world. I can feel it, but it remains just out of reach. I feel as though I am in the cracks between the pages of a forgotten book.
I am writing this on a scrap of parchment against the flat face of a great monolith. With every movement of my pen, the stone seems to hum in encouragement. There is a faint rhythm to it. Oh, how unlike me it is to write like this! But I feel compelled to tell someone, anyone, what this new journey is like. Maybe I was always meant to write this to you.
There are others here, all of them no longer living. They wear garments made from a thousand different lifetimes. Everything here feels familiar, yet completely uncanny. These spirits gather around me, their lips moving without a sound. They keep pointing, as if trying to show me where to go, but they cannot agree on a single direction. They want to tell me something, a warning perhaps. I do not know.
I need someone who can translate silence. Someone who can speak for these bones.
The Bone Speaker.
The name brings me a strange sense of comfort despite not knowing how it came to me.
I hold faith that these words will find their way to you. I am still learning the boundaries of this place, and I am not sure how much of this world I am permitted to share. But I promise to reach out in any way I can.
I will update this log the best I can, but please also look for me in unexpected spaces. I will leave a pulse for you to follow.
With wandering steps,
The Traveller