Dorian Graves's Questionnaire

I live near the old family graveyard, in a little town that feels too quiet sometimes. It wasn’t always like this. Three months ago, I came back from a long trip, thinking I’d return to the comfort of home, but I found... well, I found my wife and daughter lying there, like they were part of something. The kind of thing that doesn’t make sense, even when I try to tell myself it does. There was blood, a lot of it, and the air felt different, heavy. I fought—there were people there, cultists or something but... I think I disturbed something, something big. That’s when the explosion happened. I woke up, and everything was gone. 

I stayed close to where we lived, near the graveyard, even though it’s not the same. I rented a small apartment, just two rooms. One’s for work, and the other’s where people come to see me. Dolores handles the clients, keeps things running while I... well, I still don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t found any answers. But something tells me I’ll have to leave soon, maybe go somewhere I don’t even know yet, to find what really happened. I just don’t know if I’m ready for that.

I don’t spend much, honestly. Most of the money I get goes toward the apartment, keeping things running for Dolores, and the occasional drink at the bar. It’s about all I can afford anyway, considering the work I do. People come to me with their problems—sometimes it’s just things they need taken care of, sometimes it’s their past they can’t escape. That’s how I make a living, though it doesn’t really feel like living. The rest of the money I keep for something else—things I need. Little trinkets, magical artifacts, odd items that might hold a clue, something that could help me understand what happened... what I need to do next. Maybe I’ll find the right piece one day. Maybe not. But I can’t stop looking. The rest of it? It doesn’t matter much.

I’ll do whatever it takes to find the truth. I don’t know how far I’ll have to go, but I’m prepared to go the distance. If I need to dig into the darkest corners of this world, I’ll do it. If I have to risk my life, face dangers that would make most people run, I’ll walk right into them. I’ve already brushed with death—what more do I have to fear? As for killing... I don’t know if I’m there yet. I’ve always tried to hold onto something, but if it comes to it, I won’t hesitate. I need answers, I need to know why this happened. And if the world stands in my way... well, I won’t stop until I get what’s mine.

That day... I keep going back to it, you know? I was just coming home from that damn trip, thinking it was going to be like any other. But when I walked through the door... I never could’ve prepared myself for what I saw. My wife, my daughter... lying there, part of some damn ritual. Cultists, chanting, blood everywhere. I remember the fight—how I fought them off, how I tried to stop it, but it was too late. And then... that explosion. Magic, or whatever it was, ripping through everything. Flesh torn apart, the air burning. 

I should’ve died too, shouldn’t I? But I didn’t. That damn ring my wife gave me kept me alive, but not in the way I expected. My body’s not the same anymore. I survived, but now I’m left with this... emptiness. And the questions. So many questions. Why was I spared? What was the point of all that? I keep wondering if it’s some kind of punishment... or a sign that there’s something more I need to find. Something I missed.

Joanna, my wife. She was the heart of everything—calm, wise, and full of love. We had a life built on trust and hope, and when I think of her, it’s like she’s still here, in the spaces we shared. It’s hard to even imagine that day without her. Losing her feels like losing a part of myself.

Elis, my daughter. She was full of energy, always asking questions, always curious about the world. Her laugh could light up any room. She was the light of our home, and it’s still hard to believe I’ll never hear her voice again. Every part of me aches for her lost future.

And me? I’m still here, I hope but I’m not the same. I’m different now. I survived something I shouldn’t have. I keep searching, hoping to find something—some clue, some reason—why I’m still alive. It’s all I have left.