I wrote of Knyaz Skender’s deeds, as instructed, extolling his supposed virtues and omitting his many sins. But what truly interested me was the history of the valley itself. It was unlike any place I had ever been to. It seemed to thrum with a dark energy, which tangled my thoughts and seeped into my dreams. It felt unreal, like a place from a folk tale – the kind to teach children a cautionary lesson.
Even now, as I record what I have learned, I fear that no one will believe me, that future readers will judge this book a fabrication of a feverish mind, will think Vale Sangora did not exist at all.