Eadberht's farewell note

This note is found by the altar in the crypt of the Old Chapel.

Associated quest

 * The Cursed Chapel

Journal entry

 * I’ve naught left. Not a blooming thing. All I can do now's pass on my family's tale of horror and woe, then pass on myself, soon as I’ve written it all up in this letter.


 * Seems a faded dream now, but there were a time when we were happy. My beautiful wife, Ornesta, and myself. We were married in high style, with a fitting feast, then a year later our dear Mildburga was born. Folk praised the wean’s beauty, said she were the spitting image of her mum. Ornesta’d get all cross when they talked like that, but I paid it no heed at the time. Soon enough our family grew. First Matilda, then Ethel came into the world, both fair as angels. But Ornesta… well, I’ll never forget the eve she sat there, combing her long, chestnut hair while the girls cried and cried. I said to her, “Love, I reckon the lasses’re hungry.” That’s when she lashed out at me for the first time. Said they'd no right to be hungry – they’d stolen her beauty and her youth, that should be more than enough to feed on…


 * I should’ve known it then. I should’ve guessed madness had burrowed into my love’s head, and every compliment paid to her lasses' beauty made it burrow ever deeper. Year by year, the young'un's grew taller and more lovely. But time’s not so kind to the old, and Ornesta weren't spared its cruelty, which took her skin’s spring and its sheen of youth.


 * One night I was awoken by a startling moon which lit all the world in an eerie glow. I looked around the hut, and saw it was empty. I ran out the door and followed a set of bare footprints, leading to the cemetery by the chapel. Seeing that, my heart jumped up into my throat…


 * I found them, all three, lying around the fountain. Were I not been their father, I’d never have recognized them. Deep gashes mutilated their fair faces. Strips of skin and hunks of flesh were strewn all about… As I stood beholding this butchery, I had the feeling someone was watching me. And I weren't mistaken. Ornesta stood there on a stool by a lone tree. She had a rope draped ‘round her neck like some demonic necklace. “They took it from me, all of it, all I had, all I cherished,” she said. Then she jumped.


 * She’s dead. My Ornesta. My three daughters – dead as well. I’ll soon join them. I’ve taken all I have and gave it to the gods, perhaps they’ll forgive me and my beloved Ornesta…

Eadberhts Abschiedsnotiz Message d'adieu d'Eadberht Biglietto di addio di Eadberht List pożegnalny Ciechosława