Log entry

I’ve stopped numbering these. If I lose track, does it even matter? It doesn't even look like the original idea at this point.

We leave for Haverstadt tomorrow.

It feels strange to write that down—to make it real. The idea of leaving the village was always abstract, something to be dealt with later. Now "later" is in a few hours.

Preparations are complete. Supplies accounted for. Cover story set. Even the ridiculous veil for Io is ready. Everything is in place, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into something I can’t prepare for.

Io doesn’t seem scared, or at least she won’t admit it. She says she’s excited, that she’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. I believe her. But I also remember how she looked at the ruins of that other village—the one her people destroyed. I remember the way she spoke, the weight behind her words. She knows what happens when things go wrong.

I keep thinking about what she said to me that night. That I treat life here like it’s not real. That I try to smooth out the rough edges, to make things fit into a narrative I can accept.

She was right.

But I don’t think I do that because I refuse to see reality. I think it’s because I need to believe I have control. And now, we’re about to step into a world where I have none.

I trust Io. I trust that we’re making the right choice. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid.

Still, if I’ve learned anything here, it’s that fear doesn’t stop the world from moving forward. So, I’ll move with it.

At least this time, I’m not doing it alone.