Day One Hundred and Forty-One

Day 141: 20 Dec 2010

My men are all dead. We were in the hotel, sweeping through the empty rooms, when the impossible happened. The ceiling exploded in on us, and there in the middle of the cloud of plaster dust and years of loose dirt stood Travis. Alive.

He slaughtered my men as easily as if he were taking out the trash. He had one of the God of the Skies' blades. Our own weapons. . .

Useless. They were designed to use against the forces of the God of the Skies. They could not hurt the children of our father. Our own knives chipped and shattered against his skin as he tore through my soldiers, slicing them to chunks of bloody meat.

I don't know how I survived. I don't know how I escaped. But I need to go to my father. He will know what to do.