[An old handwritten letter, neatly folded into the corner of a plaque that reads: 
9 Gorlith.]
The finality of death leaves us with little but the ephemeral. Where once I heard your laughter, clasped your arm in brotherhood, listened to your songs and stories, I content myself now to simply recollect. If only I had them to look forward too, rather than looking to the past to remember. If only!
Though years have passed, I have never forgotten you, and when I too am gone and forgotten, at least the people of Demacia will remember your name.
Your loving friend,
Dominick Durand
