Chapter 1 - The Beginning of the End

And so it is that I, Wisemon, shall begin the creation of a new documentation of history as it continues to transpire. The preceding day, I finished with my previous telling of history the way it was five hundred years ago.

To those of you who are familiar with my previous lore, Lilithmon’s Epic, you may or may not recall that I am able to see into the hearts of others; I can experience their emotions as my own, and I can read their thoughts, and interpret them to the written word. I can see the many pasts of our world, Arcadia, including those fortunate several who had the misfortune to never occur in the first place. I can even see into the future, and view the path down which our destiny decides to transcend…or plummet. And at this very moment, I can see that our destiny — the term “our” being used in a collective manner to refer to all known life on the several continents on Arcadia — is headed towards a very bleak and very, very lifeless path that will undoubtedly end with the destruction of all but two…but in the end, even those two shall be brought to their knees, and beg for mercy as death’s sweet embrace slowly takes them unto another plane of existence.

Now, dear reader, you could very well be asking yourself, “If the events of your previous book happened over five hundred years ago, and you are able to see the pasts and futures, why did you wait until recently to write that book?” The answer is not quite as simple as the question, I’m afraid. Yes, I do see the futures — all of them. At least, that was what I was told by her. However, some of these visages appear clearer than the others. It seems to be that the clear ones have a higher likelihood of occurring. And so one day, I saw an image of the future. A wonderful and beautiful future seemed to be but a hair’s breadth away, but to my endless regret, the visage I saw turned out to be but a falsehood. The exact opposite occurred. A horrible future filled with naught but despair is all that I could see, and it is all that I see now. That was why I waited to write the story of Lilithmon, of Zelda and Thomas, and Statuedramon. If I had interfered, like I did the time before theirs’, I risked altering the very fabric of reality. I simply had to wait for as long as I possibly could before writing their story — had I wrote simply what I had seen before their journey began, I’d have been dead wrong. I could have ruined the happy future those two truly got to experience. And now, as one still walks the earth while the other sleeps endlessly within it, I write the tale that was theirs, and prepare to write the one following it.

The continent itself hasn’t changed much; however, in this story, there will be dealings with another continent far to the east known as Cyllene. Don’t worry about the name for now, for it will not come up again until much later. As for Arcadia, everything remains basically unchanged. However, a new species of Digimon has been discovered; we call them Trailmon, train-like Digimon who can give rides to many in only a short period of time.

Now, allow me, if you will, to speak fondly of the characters you perchance had the opportunity to know and love. I speak, of course, of the members of Lachesis. Some lay dead from age or battle. Others yet live still, both grieving for the lost and celebrating the new. Several have departed on a long journey, hoping to find themselves or maybe others. The guild itself is now an ally of the Valencian Military; it is as it was; a small, but independent faction of mercenaries, and there is no more hatred between the two groups.

I myself have chosen to become a member of the mercenary guild Lachesis. This was mainly done for my newfound love for Bellaluna Rosalina, the Witch. Chrysania remained the same as ever throughout our long and happy espousal — a sweet and loveable bundle of energy. However, as she was not ours by blood, she did not inherit the Mark that I had and her mother used to have. Our own daughter did, though. Our own daughter, whom all three of us loved, was emblazoned with the mark on her left arm. But that did not stop sweet Bellaluna from loving her — she did not even complain about the gradual swelling of her belly as our daughter grew inside her. Knowing her, this shocked me somewhat.

What became of the others? I do not wish to tell everything in this prologue chapter. The fates of the others, if you wish to know, will be discussed in this second entry to my chronicles. In this story, I take somewhat of a more active role in the story (yay!), and as a result, I will undoubtedly be forced into situations where I may end up ruining a beautiful future I saw…or mayhaps bring an end to the ugly one I inadvertently helped to create oh so long ago…That story shall be told much later. If the future is still around (which, based on a very recent vision of mine, this is quite doubtful), I shall chronicle that tale. But at this very moment, this story must be told exactly as it happens. Whether I interfere and change the future or not, I must insist on writing things exactly as they occur, without worrying about the futures that could have been, and the pasts that never were. Now, as with my previous story, along with any future ones I may construct, I am able to see into the hearts and minds of any whom I choose. Therefore, I am more than capable of writing in the first person.
And so, without any further ado; ladies and gentlemen, to you I humbly present Lost Chronicles II: One World.

Best Regards,
~Wisemon



A lone woman walked through a rather dense forest. It was dawn, and there was a misty fog obscuring her surroundings, but this did not deter her in the slightest from her trek after several days of walking nonstop. She knew where she was going, and she had gone there countless times before. Even through the mist, one could clearly see the excitement on her lovely face. It had been a long while since she had been home, after all. However, in the back of her sharp mind, she knew she had to stay calm, and remember why exactly she had chosen to return home. This woman’s name was Heather Reed, and she was returning home to Lachesis.