Gwenn’s journal, after meeting Vecna, the god of secrets…
“But listen to another scion of a wealthy and powerful house, let go…. you now have true freedom…. Don’t throw that away in the name of vanity.”
Sure it is, “Lord Vecna.” Just give it all up, walk away.
If he only knew how many times I’ve been tempted to do exactly that. I want my identity back, but that can be rectified with a skilled solicitor or a willingness to live in utter obscurity or exile. Or I could give even that up forever, and live with a false name for the rest of my life.
And watch the world around me burn with the fire of “righteousness.” Watch the wizards disappear forever. Watch the druids cease to be a force. Watch what happens when people like “Zachary” go unchecked.
Watch my world turn into a nightmare. Let Ordune and Tristram be executed or exiled. Firiel’s fate would be worse… so much worse. I cannot bear the look I would see in Emilien’s eyes if I brought him this far only to pull the rug from beneath his feet like that. You do not instill ideals only to betray them at the earliest opportunity.
He thinks it is vanity or hatred or vengeance that keeps me on this path. It is not, or if it is, those are not the driving forces that keep me here. It’s love. Love of my friends, love of my people, love of this world, even with all its flaws.
There is no single thing in the world with the kind of power we witnessed at Ilyria, not even a dragon. And he has destroyed his own tools… why?
Whatever he is, he is no follower of Erathis, that much is clear. Erathis creates– she builds. The bow, the factories– these are her gifts. Destruction and hiding evidence are not her way.
I wish I knew more about what’s really going on. The machinations among the devils, the secret deals being made. I know there are wagers on our outcomes, but I am blind. I do not even know all the players in this game, and that makes me feel too much like a pawn.