To whom it may concern;
After countless, restless moons of research, at last my work is done, and hope looms once more in this dark time. Weary are the sounds of scales sliding across old, dusty papyrus scrolls, and tired has this tail and these eyes grown. Though the following matters are more pressing, and I have been granted vision.
Magic is waning as time flows. Why? You may not know, but I do. The neverchanging anuic light of Aetherius fades, for the wounds of Oblivion are healing and its ripples cease! The seas lie still as the waters become steam. Memory is fading… but hope lies beyond the horizon! We are all familiar with the Odd of the East, AKA-Vir, yes? A premonition of Times ahead. The future in essence and purity, built and written from a basis beyond our writhing actuality – spiritually, corporeally, technologically. So doth the Thirteenth Hymn prephrases; the skies of Akavir have gone dark. The land bleeds, and the wife of Our Pioneer mourns yet for Her fallen king, Her tears fall as daggers upon the backs of a thousand puppeteers. We – soon they by accordance of our Birthers – living and consumimg, slithering with folded steel and pinching teeth across the air, shall curl the torn mantle of the archetype and molder. And so the serpents bite into the tissue and rip into heaven, blinding stasis peers into Creation and spills forth; For how will a world live without the light beyond? AND NOW SAYETH THE FINAL WORD, TO THE BEAT OF THE DRUM AND TO THE BREATH OF THE WORLD! My word is the word of the Pioneer, indeed, mine tongue guided by the Live-Dead Hand and mine voice molded by ghosts. Magic will flourish as it did in kalpas past – perhaps when the Dragon lied sleeping and the god-children played across the Grey Maybe!
―Author unknown, Era erased.
“Argonian Scholar” | Illustration by KrakenInABox