I've survived these months by looting the bodies I passed. I've finally made it to the Imperial City. I couldn't make any sense out of what he was saying, except that he must "do his master's bidding." Poor creature. He was an Argonian, which made him only slightly better. I saw the first living being in months aside from those enormous lizards.
Tracking time has proven the only way for me to retain my sanity it gives me a task to focus on aside from this mindless trudging. It's nearly impossible to walk, but I am slowly making progress. I think I see the Imperial City in the distance.
I'm so tired, but at least I am used to the cold now. I've passed countless bodies along the road, decaying, sinking slowly into the sludge that is the ground. Perhaps I will find someone else along the way. Tomorrow, I will follow the road to Cyrodiil. I pray to the Nine I am not where I fear I am. Though the landmarks and geography are the same, I know for certain I am no longer on Nirn. The house still stands, but it is just as desolate as the rest of this world. How can it be so cold, when the sky is on fire? I can only tell the passing time by using a spell and watching as its effect wanes. I can see my breath and feel the icy air in my lungs.
Tomorrow, I am going to try to find my way home. If someone reads this, my name is Jeriah Valtieri, of Valtieri Hall in High Rock. But now I remember I was laid down on an altar of some sort, and my father was crying before I passed out. I was led somewhere-I thought to bed at the time. I remember feeling really happy for hours. Now that I think back on it, I remember seeing a group of Khajit merchants acting like that once. It seemed such a solemn gathering at first, but then after just a drink or two, I felt so light-hearted and merry. I remember drinking wine at my father's dinner party. How could this happen to me? Why? Have I displeased my father? Shamed him? I don't understand.
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