June 8 th, 793 of our Lord

The darkness moves in, and a thick fog rushes over the sinuous waters of Lindisfarne’s shore. I sense that something dark is coming—writhing and tearing through the air.

Muffled rays fall from the sky, outlining the shadows of dragons who, eons ago, became the main characters of the stories we tell our children.

There are rumors of foreigners who landed at the Bay of Portland about three years ago. It is said the sea guides them, and the fog hides them from the gaze of God. Because of these whispers, one can only hear the grunts, cries, and screams of the people they slaughtered.

June 11th, 793 of Our Lord

One night was enough to unleash the forces of Hell. I know we cannot run—it is useless to fight. We can only pray… Please, Father, protect your children, protect us…
IT’S NOT DRAGONS! THEY ARE BOATS! The screams don’t stop—they come from everywhere. But what are those things coming out of the boats? THE COAST HAS FALLEN! TAKE REFUGE IN THE CASTLE! GO TO THE CASTLE! Oh, for God’s sake, what will become of us?

June 12th, 793 of Our Lord

Thunder rumbles in the distance like drums of war—heralding a prelude whose end is already written. We have done everything possible to make the castle safe, but even blocking and bracing the doors will not hold them for long. They have surrounded us, and now only shadows move in the darkness. They are not warriors… they are not human. THEY ARE MONSTERS!

May the Lord welcome our souls into His divine glory… (the rest is illegible).