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In the Whiterun jail a strange man told me of a Mage type in a black robe, a Mage who's face you can not see that he had heard about in Riften.

I had finally found my first real lead in Skyrim. We spent three days listening and talking to the beggars and lowlifes and not a word. Lydia was starting to get upset, she was sick of the ale and poor food at the local inn, she kept saying forget him you have me and she would be right, if it was any other Mage in Skyrim I would pick her over them for she is fearsome in battle, but she can not understand he is the only reason I have come to Skyrim and I will find him if i have to kill every last thing that crawls beneath our feet in the Ratways.

As I lay here unable to sleep I listen to Lydia downstairs spinning her tales of our travels.

Tomorrow we will go in to these sewers and find him, but before we do that I will pay a visit to the this Bosmer I have heard so much about, it is said Galathi is a face sculptor who can change your face, we will see. As I drift off to sleep I know tonight my dreams will be filled with scenes of smoke and fire, the cry of the living and the smell of the dead surrounding me.

Reaching into the pocket of my clock, I run my fingers over the smooth paper with only six words written upon it. Come to Skyrim, I need you!. The courier who had delivered it had seemed shaken and when I had asked who had sent it, all he would say is “ A creepy fellow dressed all in black.”

My last throught as sleep claims me is “Please let it be him finally.”