A black-and-white book

[Mymerian]

Wake up
Wake up
Wake up

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

[This entry consists of a number of sketches of the face of Cuibhne Nadhac, its expression contorted into horrendous grimaces. Instead of eyes, there are blazing suns. On the final sketch, the eyes are removed.]






It was right in front of me all along. The Key. The Spear. The Lance of the True Light. Safeguarded by my dear friend. Of course. This is her purpose. Everything as intended. Everything as planned.

I am approaching the absolute limit of what this crude body and flickering mind can withstand, but my task is nearly complete. The Queen is doing her best to stop me, but in relying upon that inbred ghyl Nadhac, she has miscalculated. For all his meddling, he is quite out of his depth. It is too late to avert what comes; the false light shall be snuffed, the Ruby Court shall fall, and the Work shall continue, as it must.

Master, if you are reading this, know that I am grateful and that my heart is full of joy.

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

The storm has abated.

It is gone. It withdrew.

I now feel as though I am left alone in a grand city that has been evacuated of all its populace. There is calm. There is peace. Where once there was a howling gale, there is but a whisper.

Its absence leaves me with a sense of loneliness greater than any I have felt since learning of the fate of my brother.

And yet I know I am not alone. I know that I have friends.

I do not know what their actions purport. I do not know what any of it means. But I know that they acted out of friendship. At least one of them did.

I do not think I would still be here if not for her.

I made a wager against it. Friendship versus parasitism. One of us would be proven wrong. One of us has.

Friendship is real. Love is real.

Even at the precipice of the abyss, its power does not just remain, but it grows. It outweighs worlds.

I believed her destruction was necessary. And I still could not go through with it. Even after the betrayal I felt.

When I turned to her and asked what I should do, she did not beg for her life. She did not exhibit fear. She did not speak about this world.

She spoke about me. About what was left of me. She wanted me to save myself.

It was then I realized that there was still a light in the darkness. One I cannot bring myself to extinguish.

The memory of love shines through the darkness not just of this world, but all worlds. It cuts through time and space and forms an everlasting bond.

One that I have no business cutting.

What happens next? Where do I go from here? I know not.

But I know that I will not be alone. I will never be alone.

[Mymerian]

WORDS

[Mymerian]

Ten thousand times ten thousand times. Beyond sequence, beyond duration, beyond distinction. Ten thousand mouths howling, ten thousand eyes weeping, ten thousand whispered riddles, ten thousand crushing doubts, ten thousand death knells, ten thousand birth pangs, ten thousand broken mirrors, ten thousand incomprehensible revelations, ten thousand knifelike regrets, ten thousand lifelike corpses, ten thousand shameful nightmares, ten thousand jagged teeth, ten thousand dying friends, ten thousand wrong guesses, ten thousand convincing lies, ten thousand towers stretching to the sky, ten thousand skies burning, ten thousand fires of fever, ten thousand cold sweats, ten thousand rivers of ice, ten thousand tears of despair, ten thousand years of anticipation, ten thousand painted masks, ten thousand familiar faces, ten thousand fathoms deep, ten thousand miles long, ten thousand leagues wide, ten thousand screaming gods, ten thousand laughing demons, ten thousand silent witnesses, ten thousand shackled feet, ten thousand grasping hands, ten thousand ticking clocks, ten thousand licking tongues, ten thousand compass-needles. Ten thousand times ten thousand clouds of invisible moths over endless oceans under empty heavens pillared by jagged spires upon crumbling islands riddled with dead trees crawling with little angels, each destined to be devoured by the moths, each guarding an unspeakable secret, each named after each child that will never be born. Ten thousand rotting husks drift upon the black waves. Ten thousand falsehoods clamor at the door. The handle is slick with blood. The blood is thick with death. Death itself is a lie. The lie itself is unborn. The words are not yet spoken but are already heard. Ten thousand times ten thousand times. The light eternal does not reach. The lighthouse was swallowed up. Heaven is full of casinos and slave markets. There is no one left to judge us.

[Mymerian]

[More lines are added to a previous entry.]

What and where is the Scribe?

What did they do with the Tome?

Where are the Red Friars hiding?

Where are the archives of the Doorkeepers?

When was I created?

The Library will have answers. I must reach it.

AS REMEMBERED, SO FORETOLD - AS ABOVE, SO BELOW

WHAT IS DUNWARREN?

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

Agnes,

It may be that you are reading this in search of knowledge that has been lost to you. Know that those memories were full of pain, loss, terror and regret. It may indeed be a blessing to have forgotten.

But there are a few things you should know.

Meredina Cassel is your friend.

Augustus was your brother. The Resplendent Diocese was your home. Your people were lost to a demon named Ma'azzurgla'auth. If salvation is beyond them, they must have vengeance.

Cuibhne Nadhac is your enemy.

Ser Lyon Moonspear is your liege. He is a good man. He needs your help. And the Kingdom needs his.

The dwarf Thorgred has called for your destruction, but if you speak to him now, he may understand that he has no cause to.

Druids are not evil. Changelings are not evil. Madilyn, Gwenllian and Camedyr of Haremarch taught you that.

The King is dead. The Court is serving something else.

Indali saved your life. She is as a sister to you.

The one responsible for all the evil that has befallen you is still out there. No matter what they tell you, he is not gone.

He must be found. And he must pay.

Do not trust the Doorkeepers.

Seek the Rememberers.

Look to the stars.

[Mymerian]

Do not trust the Cowled Man.

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

[Mymerian]

[Perhaps this journal, of which the remaining 86 pages are blank, will one day by someone be found; forgotten, scorched, confusing; in some distant and desolate corner of the City ... or perhaps, it never will.