Journal Entry 645
4E 184 24th of Second Seed, a beautiful Tirdas.

Ashurpi Bannassi, Dunmer of Windhelm.

Heh, nearly forgot about this old thing.

My Uncle always told me to be circumspect. I suppose I should record this somewhere. In the nearly 180 years since that day, I never tried to write down what I remembered of that event. I just catalogued my journey since it happened, unthinking, like a Kwama on its feeding route while a foyada fills with Dagoth's fiery blood. I wonder how many memories I have forgotten about thay journey by now? Bahhh...

I think back to that day. When Baar Dau fell. It seemed like time stopped. I remember the groan of magical energies, both holy and mer-made, as the Ministry of Truth trembled before it's descent. I was a mere 11 Winters old. I remember that moment. As people panicked, children were stomped to death in a frenzy as many outlanders tried to flee. The Dunmer though? My People? There was an eerie calm in most of them. For a moment, a brief moment, I believe there was a sense of shared calm and realization. However, when the priests and devotees of the Tribunal looked up and then within themselves, and cried in despair. This startled most people. For they had come to realize there would be no ALMSIVI Intervention. The realization that we were alone. Our great Gods, truly gone. Where before there was hopeful doubt or blind faith, now? It was shattered. I recall them looking on in terror as the twisting energies of Baar Dau intensified and thousands of mages began to whisk themselves to safety. Looking back they probably had cast a simple recall spell. I wonder how many of them got far enough away? The devastation seemed so total back then. Yet amazingly people have been resettling my homeland for over a hundred years if not more now.

However, those are just the details. What was truly astounding was that one moment, right before my uncle grabbed me and cast his recall spell to Blacklight. That tiny point, when all time seemed to have stopped. The world seemed red and yellow all at once. Colors didn't mix, they intensified. Orange became reds and yellows, greens became blues and yellows, every color was distilled to it's base essence. It was as if a prism of madness decided to warp the spectrum to it's own design. It seemed as if two great beings were contesting over Baar Dau. For a brief moment, the being that I can only describe as us, seemed to be winning against what I can only describe as a hole in space and time, a void if you will. All of us seemed to have unified our thoughts and it was as if it made that being stronger. Maybe if there had been enough of us. Maybe our belief could have halted it. Maybe, but it didn't. Baar Dau fell then. I saw it land. It seemed as if it was the blink of an eye. As my Uncle and I were disappearing I saw two mages trying to recall several spans away from us. Everytime I study Restoration I see the bones and muscle being flayed from their flesh again and again. When I knit together the flesh of a soldier's wound, I imagine it unknitting itself just like that day. In that Red Moment.

Then we suddenly arrived in Black Light. The immediate calm was so eerie it has stuck in my mind to this day. Each time I venture out into these Nordic environs, the calm makes me remember. I was svcked out of this calm by the people around us. They were looking at us as if we were insane, but then in the distance, we all saw it. A flash of light. It was then that I knew my home was gone. My friends were gone. My family was gone. My neighbors were gone. Everything I had ever known. Gone. The streets, sewers, temples, shops, canols...just gone.

It was too much to fathom. I collapsed, and cried. I do not remember for how long but when I came to a wall of wind amd noise hit us. There were screams on that wind. I swear by the lost Nerevarine, I heard my friend Idrenas' voice on it. It sounded like people being consumed by fire. I had nightmares for months, years even. My Unlce of course told me it was just the shock. But, something was not natural about that wind that day.

When the refugees came through, we joined with them. My uncle was not the most talented of mages. But he made due. He taught me all he knew on that journey. Then we got here. Windhelm. What a mistake that was. We of course had to have joined a caravan of old Hlaalu Nobles. I don't think they ever let go of the past even to this day. They still cling to past glories like they are the divine made flesh.

At least now if anyone goes through this old thing, this one event is accounted for. Nothing will ever wipe that Red Moment from my mind.

[Hope that was alright? Critiques welcome]