June 12th, 1611.

My horse trotted down the path, remembering where it had came from with no instruction from the meager boy on his back. He was a well trained horse from the royal palace after all and was autonomous; lucky for me since I had no experience in riding a horse. I rode for hours. The sun had already risen in the sky by the time I started worrying about where the horse was taking me, but I had nothing to worry about. In the end it took me right where I belonged.

My tears had already dried then, but my eyes were red and puffy still from when the tears started- quite promptly after Simba left my vision. The reality of the violent murders, Simba's rage, and my unprecedented debt that let me live through the ordeal were swept under the carpet of my brain. I am now, however, reminded of the mess that I had ignored. A lion, angry and wounded, let a diseased bird escape his den after he had lied and played with him. I had written far more words about far less riveting happenings. And maybe that's why I'm writing at all now- noticing how every last drop of ink threatens to strangle my final journal entry. Why you ask? Well to be heard a final time, I guess. After realizing that the pegs hold no power over me anymore for more than one reason, I thought it was time to let it all out before I leave. But let's forget my revelation for now and come back to it later.

The path soon followed the familiar trench in the hillside, and the forest, pegs and all, erupted from the horizon like a spire of shame. Of course when I first arrived, this decrepit place still held some kind of power over me. After the tantalizing yet troubling experience, I supposed I had to return to my life I resented because of the affirmation of my disgraceful being. The world slowly began to re-sync from my absence. Luckily for me then, I had returned around the time I usually awoke from my sleep. It would be easy to jump back in where I left off.

As the horse came to the threshold of the forest, the pegs became to grow closer until they were right before me. I never imagined I would see the pegs from this side. Facing from the side I longed to be in for years was somewhat bitter sweet recounting how I got there. I remembered that I was stuffed in the carriage with Simba while they crossed the barrier. I wasn't able to face the barrier until after they had left it behind, and returning to it now made it seem as if nothing had changed. So the magic was now broken, and the curse was free. I didn't need to be here anymore, yet here I was looking down the rabbit hole to the depths of a somber existence. I put my hand up against the invisible wall, and my hand fell through. There was nothing there, not that I expected to feel anything at all. I hadn't felt the barrier on my way out- as if there were nothing truly there. I suddenly felt foolish expecting there to be a solid wall. There probably wasn't any magic at all this whole time. Perhaps this "magic" was only as real as the way Nanna strung her words together for a kid who didn't know any better. I then took the horse's reins tightly in my clenched fist and walked back through to the tower.

The footprints of the horses and Simba's men that made a debauchery of the soil were the only evidence anything was amiss. The forest had stayed the silent observer as I was hauled away, waiting for me as I made an unlikely return at my captor's mercy. I tied my new steed to a tree, sighing as he looked about.

"Time to keep living." I said to himself, but it felt wrong. I didn't know why , then. I didn't yet see that this place had killed ten years of my life.

The day's chores battled with me, as if to answer my strange feeling. I found myself distracted while beating my clothes in the stream. I noticed how the fabric I wore was once nice, little threads the only reminder of its soft touch. It was not only a ghostly rag of the formerly semi-luxurious shirt I had in my youth in the forest. The blue was gone, and the strange shape in the center of the back was no longer identifiable to me. Some kind of blob maybe? With antlers? Time had washed away what used to be on the very clothes I wore every day. I rhythmically beat the shirt with the rocks, hearing the familiar echo sound bounce around me from tree to tree. I stopped, too exhausted to continue after a few strikes. I thought about the clothes of the prince and how they were so beautiful and refined. Somehow, the rags I wore day in and day out seemed lackluster and inadequate to wear over my body. I had never felt so strongly that this life wasn't enough, but I was told it was my disease that made me think this- it made me illogical. I recalled these nice clothes were ruined because of the cage I was told was the only way for me to live; my purpose to stay caged all alone. These garments once held a similarity to the fine ones of the prince of Sanitatum himself. It wasn't me that has ruined the clothes, it was the place I kept myself. Maybe it was more complex than that, or maybe it was the combination of many things. Maybe I thought this way now because my brain kept failing me. My brain felt worn down thinking about it. It felt wrong for me to feel like I had been robbed when I had robbed the world around me from health. I put down the rock. It was time to tend to the garden.

The gardening seemed like a wasted effort. The bucket to carry water with was filled, but the soil seemed dry even with the whole bucket poured on it. The brittle ground just let the water fall between it's cracks, falling away from the roots that needed its nourishment. I remembered all the clean water I wasted on blighted vegetables in dead ground. Perhaps if they were planted in better soil away from the forest, they would have grown a plentiful harvest. I imagined that if I too had grown up anywhere but the forest, I would have grown to expect more from the world. Maybe if I wasn't alone, someone could teach me how to care for plants better. But I did my best, despite my gap in planting knowledge. They lived despite their struggle to do so, so they deserved a chance to blossom.

I then began to remember Simba's ability to lead. The pegs were meaningless to those who own the world- what's a wooden stake to a man with an army behind him? Despite Simba's many flaws, I was drawn to his elegant way of commanding the world around him. He truly lived a life worth living. I wanted that too. But I couldn't even command the plants to grow; something they seemed prone to do in any case. I would have the entire world to plant new roots, if I were to leave that is. I put the pail down. It was time to clean.

The tower was dusty from my absence. It was only a day or so since I had left, but pollen rested in a film over everything after wafting in through the open windows of the tower. Grabbing my rags, I began to work, but it was short lived and lethargic. The dusting seemed too mundane to execute now. I often looked out the window of my bedroom and stared out past the trees to gaze fawningly to the meadows I rode back to the forest from. I had always imagined the world out there, but now I could recall the world that I had experienced. Though I almost died out there, it was because I was unable to fool an incredibly wealthy man into thinking I was a princess who wanted to marry him. The curse would have gone unnoticed if his guards didn't interfere. I began to wonder how the guards knew I was cursed to begin with. I had not disclosed such information, and left no evidence to suggest such a thing. It probably had something to do with Simba's attack at the campsite, or maybe the gloves.

In any affair, pondering the docile nature Simba possessed at the spring was thrilling to me. It was a sign that the curse was transparent as long as the symptoms were hidden. As long as I wore gloves, the infection should not spread. Though the sagging woods would be proof enough of the flaw in my rationalizations, I was tired and sick of this place. It was killing me. I had to leave. Simba's first conversation with me proved enough that I had a chance to live a normal life if I did my best to hide and contain my affliction. It was selfish to pose such a risk, but I couldn't stand another day in this place.

While doing the things I always did in the place I had always been, I realized how fresh the air was in the campsite. I remembered the perkiness of the trees unscathed by my touch. I fantasized about the way I listened to the group of soldiers, the livelihood of the horses as they snorted every now and again. There was life beyond the pegs that I was isolated from. Now that I had fallen out of sync with the forest around me, I longed to never grow conditioned to its mindless tempo ever again.

Of course, despite my objections to showing gratitude to my kidnapper who almost had me killed, I had to thank this "Simba" fellow; a man who hates my guts more than anyone else in the world. Without him dislocating me from this dark grave, I would have died here without seeing the truth of my existence. The truth was always like shadows projected from Nanna's mind onto the forest around me. But the real truth is that the land was already infected before the barrier broke. Simba of all people was the one who taught me that. In a way, it was the only mercy the world had given me.

I feel there is more truth out there; a truth that I will be too blind to see until it nearly robs me of my ability to see at all. If the shadows of Nanna's fabricated forest were the falsified truth, then the real truth will be like the sun that burns the lies away with it's light. Accustomed to darkness of the past, I imagine the future holds a sun of truths ready to burn me. But the pain will be worth more than this life of shame I have lead this whole time. Like Simba leading his people, I will lead myself to a better future. Maybe this doesn't make sense to anyone but me. Perhaps I'm rambling nonsense, but I had to tell whoever found this book, if it will ever be found, that Hari Kian lived here. It was crippling all these years refusing to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, but now I am determined to make myself known to whoever reads this. I existed for so long here in the darkness, and I am leaving to see the light for myself; to be known. I will never return to this place where no one knew me. Where I'll end up I hadn't a clue- but I don't have a purpose here anymore. Only know, reader, that it is where I followed the light to a purpose of my own choosing.

My final words here are as follows:

To Nanna who let me rot here for years: I forgive you. I have for a long time. I don't know why you kept me here or why it was so important, but I must now ask for your forgiveness too. Your life you wasted to protect me in this place was in vain. I wish you were still here so I could take you by your throat and demand an explanation. But I will have to do without it. I only hope that in the end you did what you needed to do so desperately, and I hope you fulfilled your purpose in stagnating my life so severely.

To the forest that claimed so many of my formative years: I forgive you. After all, you were just a collection of plants that sustained me until now. I shouldn't demand an apology from these leafy beings, so I won't. But I wish I could hear the woods whisper their crimes against me, watching as I slowly crumbled away in this place and did nothing. But they won't, so I won't demand it. Your purpose has come to an end, and I hope you can grow despite what I left behind.

To the prince known as Simba who kidnapped me and tried to have me killed: I forgive you. Despite my own reservations, you saved me from this place and I will forever owe you the remainder of my life. You would probably hate to hear that, but you rescued me like a knight in shining armor from those fairy tales. Maybe I am your princess in some way or another. Despite your ferocious claws, I see a lion cub underneath with warm eyes. Even though I know you wish me dead for what my disease did to your land, I don't hate you. In fact, you seem to have a hold on me I would rather leave unsaid- but I refuse to let my mind die with me. I think its my lack of companionship over the years, but you have captured my attention and my interest. You have given me a new life. I wish that I didn't find myself aff-

Hari's Ink ran out.