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By Unknown. Retained for posterity by scholar Tjurhane Fyrre and transcribed in this volume.
Dry, wretched ash still clings to me as I recall my expedition to Red Mountain. My search for a remedy has seen me plagued by my own skin. This truly is a divine punishment inflicted on all Dunmer. I imagine the Dwemer must be having quite the laugh, wherever they wound up.
Red Mountain held nothing but fragments of bone. I was breathing in the dust of those who fell in battle. My hope was to discover some leftover Dwarven secret or perhaps an artifact of my ancestors. Anything that might aid me. Hope built on baseless rumor. Gossip between soldiers.
Perhaps anything that might have helped disappeared along with the Dwemer. I don't know, nor do I care. My faults and insecurities got the best of me. Nearly got me killed.
I cannot return to who I once was. I know that now. I must make peace with that. I hope that in time Nerevar's councilors will find a path forward. Surely this religion they seem to be—