September 12, 1965
I write now in a small farm cottege, I do not know where. I am still tired from the drugs and I remember sleeping for a moment as several doctors observed me. When I woke there was my father and I first thought it an illusion of my own lingering hopes. He did not say much and hustled me out of my slumber and forced me along with him. There was a lot of fire and many loud noises of which I cannot recall their source. My most vivid memory is of my brother and I remember us finding his cell and seeing him lay there, his body spent and eyes glazed over, an empty shell. I remember my father forcing me to step out of the room and he entered alone. A moment later he returned to my side, Hubris was not with him.
There are fragments of speech and sights I cannot place in my daze and I remember awaking here. Father has not spoken since the fortress and I believe his actions weigh further on him then I can even understand.
-Anthem Monroe
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