Dear Master,

This is Ivlysse.

A thousand and one apologies for this woeful invasion of privacy. Ivlysse wishes his master to know the many clever defenses and ruses surrounding his most unhallowed thoughts, displaying despicable creativity and humorous irony.

Master has truly outdone himself!

It is doubtless only his master’s mighty influence that allowed humble Ivlysse to bypass them all unscathed. Surely, were Ivlysse a common imp, he would have been annihilated ten… nay, a hundred times over.

Ivlysse gives his word, as a devil, he did not gaze upon the tempting wisdom set down within these accursed pages. Though, to be fair, Ivlysse does imagine there is little here he has not heard directly from his most verbose master’s lips with his terribly unworthy ears.

Master does so love his rants!

Ivlysse did not gain access to these memoirs in order to betray his master’s hard-earned trust. Instead, he merely wished to add his own miserably pathetic words of encouragement to this precious tome.

Ivlysse hopes beyond hope future-master wishes to return to a more… appropriate calling for a fell abomination capable of shaking the very foundations of reality. Not for Ivlysse, no… only ever for master’s own good. Ivlysse would gladly serve his master for countless eons… cataloguing and stocking inventory. Ivlysse finds his master’s willingness to mark up prices before offering a sale quite dastardly. It is just… this mercantile profession cannot give master the same… satisfaction… as cackling while wingless angels scream their throats raw and plunge as one from heaven’s blackened sky.

Ivlysse worries about his master and wants him to be happy.

Ivlysse’s faith is complete and unshakeable. Master has earned a few centuries’ vacation from the stressful work of condemning all that is good and pure to an endless, hopeless void. Foolish, selfish Ivlysse should have pushed master to take some time off millennia ago. It was… just all so wonderful… hovering by master’s side as towers of poisonous sinew arose to overshadow once mighty empires. Blinded, Ivlysse was, by his love of master’s actions. In so doing, he failed in his master’s service.

Never again can Ivlysse neglect his duties so.

While master sees to the grand interweaving of subtle machinations and awe-inspiring magics, he can count on Ivlysse seeing to him! Ivlysse refuses to once more watch the loss of a hellfire-hot passion that unbound a thousand black seals and gave pantheons pause. Ivlysse promises to work tirelessly for ten thousand years to stoke embers to flames once more if needed.

Perhaps we can start small? We could curse a kingdom with their heart’s desires or raise a religion’s saints from the dead with broken, empty souls. You know… really stretch out the old evil muscles (metaphorical muscles in master’s case of course) while we work our way up to the big stuff again?

One last thing…

Someone (definitely not Ivlysse) may have made magical copies of this diary and accidentally dropped them in a few hundred random dimensions. Oh! What fun we’ll have with all the murdering!

Love,
Ivlysse

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