If you are reading this, it means everything has gone to shit. I am either dead, close to death, or facing a fate worse than death. The pre-requisite for the release of this story hinges on my fate; if this has been released, then my fate must have been decided.
Many things have happened over the course of my life to bring me to this point—admittedly, some by my own hand, others as a byproduct of being caught in the crossfire of powerful men, and some, as a result of daring to meddle in the affairs of gods.
Either way, my fate has been sealed; the choice of whether I will live or not has been taken away from me. But what I will not let them take from me is my story. I am certain that, as of this moment, narratives are being spun about me and my experiences—some true, others false, others mixed with varying degrees of truth and lies.
But here, I'll give you the unvarnished truth. Not to seek your sympathy or judgment, but because it's mine to tell.
I will tell you of my faults, my flaws; I will tell you everything. I will not paint myself as some sort of saint; I most certainly am not. I will not tell you lies or embellish my feats.
If that is what you want, then I am sure you can find that in taverns amidst drunken men, in bathhouses amidst maidens and noble women, in whorehouses amidst whores and patronizing folks, in courts amidst aristocrats and noblemen, at seaports amidst sailors, merchants, and traveling men, at campfires amidst children and storytelling parents—anywhere but here.
My memory is near perfect. I remember everything as it happened, for better or worse. Where details are muddled, such as when I was under the haze of ale or wine, I will admit it. After that, you can judge me or feel sorry for me.
But remember, in this world, where the gods themselves walk among us, where magic and betrayal are as common as the air we breathe, my tale is but one thread in a vast tapestry of fates.
Depending on whom you ask, I have many names, but for the purpose of clarity and consistency, I will stick to Waker.
When, where, and why I acquired these many names, I will tell you. Each name carries a story, a burden, or a legend—some earned through blood, others through love, and some through sheer happenstance.
I have had what is certainly an eventful life that very few, if any, can rival.
I have been a slave, a warrior, an assassin; I have been an aristocrat, a noble, a king. I have lain with common folk women, nobles, princesses, queens, and even goddesses. Each encounter, a lesson in the art of survival, in the dance of power and desire. I have done many things I simply cannot reveal here—not yet. There are secrets bound by oaths, by magic, by fear, which in time, you will understand.
In this land where the sun sets in blood, where the whispers of the past echo through the stones of ancient ruins, the truth of my life could shift the balance of power, topple kingdoms, or forge new alliances in the fires of revelation. Perhaps I should not reveal these things, but to tell my story whole, I simply must.
To the people whose path I have crossed, I will reveal things about you that you may not want to come to light, and for this, I am most sorry.
Forgive me if you can; hate me if you must. Know that my words are not born from malice but from the necessity of truth. Your secrets, once mine, now belong to the winds of history.
Now then, dear reader, do you believe a man can control his fate, or are we all but pawns in a larger game? When you hear of my deeds, will you judge me by the standards of your world or mine? I dare you to keep an open mind as you delve into my tale. Consider this, dear reader: every hero has his villain, and every villain, his story.
This is my story, and to tell it wholly, we must start at the beginning. In the pages that follow, you'll find no fantastical tales of heroism without cost, no easy victories or simple love stories. You will find life, in all its brutal, beautiful complexity.
So, turn the page, and let us begin.