Before I continue with any more current events, allow me to talk some about my parents, Myriv and Ryund. It isn't every day after all that a mortal and an eldritch god marry.

My father Ryund came from a place called the Far Realm, which is essentially the realm of madness. Given what I have seen of it from father's memories, the description is rather apt. As can be imagined from someone who came from there, he was once an evil entity. He terrorized the mortal realm for some time before being sealed inside of a figurine by a man called the Riddler, who my father hated to his very core.

Father was trapped within the figurine for about nine centuries until a group of adventurers entered the place where the figurine was contained. I never knew how, but they managed to destroy the figurine, freeing my father from his prison. Along with the help of the Riddler, the adventurers sealed my father away again, though this time the enchantment was considerably less powerful.

My father discovered a small hole in the enchantment which he used to slowly leak his essence out of the figurine over decades. While by that point the Riddler had died, father decided to keep his escape as quiet as possible. He'd lost nearly all of his power and did not want to be trapped again. So instead, he hid in the realm of nightmares until the time came that he felt he could return.

He decided not to announce his return this time, however. Instead he made his presence known only to one: a shardmind woman by the name of Myriv. My father wanted to test to see how much power he had left, so he tried to give a nightmare to one who did not sleep. For those who've never met a shardmind, they are beings of pure thought manifested in physical form. They appear as humanoids made entirely out of crystal, almost always have psychic powers, and do not need to sleep. What better person to test his psionic powers against than a psychic who did not sleep?

So, my father made her sleep and gave her a horrible nightmare. She dreamed that her mind was splintered into fragments and scattered to the wind, never to be sane again. As a psychic myself, I can imagine how frightening a nightmare like that would be, but clearly it was worse for my mother.

When she woke, she did not know what had happened. All she remembered was her horrible nightmare and a tall hooded figure chuckling diabolically. She contemplated this nightmare for months, eventually figuring out that the hooded figure had given it to her. To this day I do not know where she found the courage to try and contact father, but she did.

Father was surprised to hear from her. He had expected to merely test his power, he never expected she would answer. So, he went to her when she prayed to him. Mother told him that she wished to be his follower. As a god with no followers, how could my father say no? Even though she offered herself willingly, father acted as though she had no choice in the matter. He told her he had chosen her months earlier when he had given her the nightmare and that she was just one of many. A lie, of course, but he was desperate.

And so, from then on, my mother went into a psychic trance every night and traveled to the realm of nightmares to speak with her god. He said it was to keep track of her progress in her psychic training, but I suspect the truth was he was lonely. Regardless, the details of mother and father's interactions early on are hazy in my memory at best. I have bits and pieces of memories but nothing truly concrete.

As far as my memory tells me, it was after half a century that mother and father began seeing each other more as friends as opposed to god and follower. All I remember from the incident leading to that was mother backtalking him. Thankfully, father was amused and not angry, and they ended up sharing a moment of laughter. From then on, they were friends.

More decades passed. Again, my memories are hazy, but at some point during this time, my mother fell in love with her god. Something about how he had always been good to her despite him acting the part of the evil god at times. From what I know of father's memories, she was right to think that way. He thought her bold and disrespectful, heretical even. Despite this though, bringing her to harm was utterly unthinkable. He wasn't going to hurt his only follower no matter how much she backtalked him.

Regardless, at the time, my father could not return her affection, and told her as much when she confessed her feelings to him. I remember vividly my mother's face. The pain. The heartache. He could have killed her and it wouldn't have hurt as much. This was not the only time he broke her heart though. He did so two more times.

The second time, she had decided that if he could not return her feelings she would at least try and make him understand them. So, one night she went to him and asked him to take her hand and tell her what he felt. Father peered into her mind and saw her intense love but did not understand it. He did not understand her question either. He took her literally and said he felt nothing but her crystalline hand. As one can imagine, she was devastated. Father did not know what he had done until he contemplated it for a while. When he finally realized what he had done, he felt terrible and vowed to try and figure out what 'love' even was.

The third time may have been worse. He had studied the behaviors of the followers of the love god. He watched how they prayed to their god and showed their devotion. So, when he told mother he thought he understood, he asked her if 'love' was what they were calling religious devotion these days. After that, mother gave up any hope of him ever understanding and never spoke of her feelings again.

It wasn't for another century that the subject was brought up again. There was a span of a month where mother could not go to the nightmare realm. She had duties to her psionic order to perform which kept her away. During this time, my father could not help but notice how bored he was. Without her there, he felt hollow inside and mere existence was painful. Then, it hit him; he could not live without her. This was what it meant to love another.

When she returned, he told her how he felt. He told her that he loved her. Of course, she was overjoyed to hear it. So, on that day, my father asked her to be his wife. It was the only way he could figure out to show he truly meant it. Needless to say, at this point, she accepted.

At the time of my writing, my parents have been happily married for around a century. Words cannot express how grateful I am that my father came to understand how to love. If he hadn't, well, I wouldn't be writing now would I?

Anyway, I remember almost nothing of the century leading up to the start of my mother's adventures. So with that in mind, the start of that is where I will begin, but even then my memories are not complete. I remember bits and pieces and will do my best to record them. If you are expecting a full coherent story however, I am afraid you will be most disappointed. With that in mind, let me tell you how my mother's adventures truly began.