He’s here. This is the next territory he’s after. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. He sent me a big-old invitation. I already told you about that in my last journal. But there’s more-something I didn’t write last time. You see, another Traveler was here before me. I’m not talking about the Traveler from Quillan. I mean someone from another territory. I don’t want to tell you much more about it until I reach that point in this journal. My story should play out on these pages as it happened. The way I saw it. But I will say this much: I’m angry. Angrier than I’ve ever been since becoming a Traveler. If Saint Dane thinks challenging me to playing games is the best way to bring down Quillan, he’s in for a big surprise. He picked the wrong battleground, because I like to play games. I’m good. And I’m mad. Bring it on.

Mark, Courtney, the last time I wrote to you guys was from a fairytale-like castle here on Quillan. There was way more I wanted to write in that journal, but I didn’t think I had the time to get it all down. Besides, the information I gave you in my last journal was pretty intense all by itself. I needed to write all of that down while it was still fresh in my memory. I’m not sure why I was so worried. There’s no chance I could ever forget what happened during my last few minutes on Zadaa. No matter how many different ways I look at it, or try to understand it, or search for a reasonable explanation for what happened, I keep coming back to the same undeniable fact:

Loor was killed, and she came back from the dead.

No, let me rephrase that: I think I helped Loor come back from the dead. If I live to be a hundred, I can’t imagine a single day going by without reliving what happened in that cave deep below the sands of Xhaxhu. I know I already wrote about this, but I can’t get it out of my head. Those few minutes keep coming back to me like a movie that only gets so far before it automatically rewinds and plays again.