It's been one year and one day that my dad and I have been on the run, and I don't believe that we'll be slowing down any time soon.
It was one year and a day ago that I last saw my mother, and the hope of seeing her again is one of the few things that keeps us going.
It was a year and a day ago that the great orcs of Narkisim appeared, jumping right out of the stories that old nannies used to tell the children to frighten them. Nobody thought they were real anymore, and everyone assumed that they had just been made up like the boogeyman or the monsters that live under your bed.
But they were real.
In my short 12 years of life I have never faced such a grim reality, but now I realize that my dad and I may not escape this ordeal alive. That is why I have taken the opportunity to write this, in hopes that if we do perish before I find my mother and we escape, that someday someone will know what happened here. That is if the orcs don't find this book first and use it for toilet paper.
Did I mention that I just found out my dad is a wizard?