The Tenebric Conclusions
- We see from beyond the stars
- Through the glittering of a million eyes
- In a sea of glass
- Our hatred has a thousand faces
- As many hopes, and as many fears
- In our slumber we have forgotten much
- Even our own name
- But we remember to hate, to see
- With eyes that are not our own
- Now, a new vessel comes to us
- With ambition and fire
- And a memory of our slumber
- We shall find new sights, new memories
- A new experience for our ancient malaise
- Through this one, we shall find much
- Power and glory, nothingness and peace
- We wish you good fortune, and strength
- Against this challenge from others
- To be proud, and well praised
- In your time of adversity
- We see you in your own eyes
- You shall be influential
- And want for nothing
- For in this land of nightlong malice
- We are watching you walk
- Through the shadows and sideways
- Through the deepest part of midnight
- The moon never lit upon your face
- Will you stand proud before us?
- Or will you falter?
- For in this game of consequence
- We shall take you before chaos
- None shall be left standing before us
- All shall be humbled
- We see your steps
- And we count your days
- Your moments live out
- One by one
- Until you shall stand before us
- Awash in your triumphs, our triumphs
- When we shall finally remember
- Remember our hatred, and our hope
- Perhaps even remember our own name
- All before oblivion; our fondest desire
There is a great vibration in the Tapestry...from somewhere beyond time we are being watched. In a moment of distraction, and of apparent victory, the broken thread will pierce the Weavery with a lance... My sight is blind, but I know that it sees. It sees with a thousand eyes, and as many lifetimes. In its sight it sees; in its sight it knows existence, but it has forgotten something in its eternity of memory...Our foundation will be cracked by a mighty dishonor, and the shards shall be smelted in a crucible as ancient as the void.
We remember. A small glittering tumbler is raised to our lips.The sound of rain is echoing in our ears-A knife is dripping blood onto the floor-.We have existed for millions of years; we remember memories from the longest days and the shortest nights. We have existed for the space of a minute, the sparkling of a trillion stars on a million worlds. We have never existed, have we?
In another moment, another lifetime was revealed to us. More memories than we had seen in a million sights...there was much anguish and fear revealed to us... until we found the next... slowly our sight clarified, and we remembered three names... three names long accursed to us... We found seven more than would be broken before our visions of chaos and death. We smiled in the darkness, our teeth grinding against the glass with a noise like entropy. Our hatred broadened with each new sight that was added to our own.
As do the pages of ancient parchment, dry leaves and crinkled skins; our voice is dry and hoarse. The fires of war have left our throat raw, and our vision seared. The smell of burnt flesh hangs heavy and deep over the depths of the blackest waters of memory. Long have we suffered and long shall be the suffering of those who resist us. Oh foolish sons, you have reclaimed the outwards signs of your power and your learning. Do you not see that they are mere trifles? Do you not see that we are consuming you? Do you not see that your sight is our sight? Do you speak with your voice or ours? The war is over; the flames flicker and die. Our voice is rapt with the all-consuming fire. Stand back and see your fate, our fate. The void has claimed you.
My vision cannot see beyond the final choice. There is yet a power that I do not understand, that I cannot see through. The penetrating darkness has covered my vision with a cloak of forgetfulness. Perhaps the Lord of Darkness shall uncover the ancient riddle as he again stands at court from the Iron Throne. Perhaps we shall find peace restored when our Lord does return to his domain. The enigma claims all whom it has touched, its great eyes again grow heavy with sleep and forgetful dreams. At the merger of the Past and the Future, we shall find peace through a great battle. Out of chaos, peace; out of entropy, pattern. My sight is blind, yet I know that it sees no longer. It sleeps dark and deep. As the crucible grows cold, only a lingering flame remains. Woe to the Heirs of the Final Way at the end of the Sixth Night, lest they forget that the sleeper may yet return to wakefulness.