My eyes widened as the scroll fell open, revealing the contents of storied past. The embrosis hadn’t fully awakened my mind yet after the briefest of slumbers and here I sat, heartbroken at what vileness I had rendered with ink and parchment. Scribbling of madness revealed the nature of the god machine’s true calling; to erupt darkness and chaos on an unsuspecting world. But why murder? I could feel the pain of the slain as they lay dead and dying, sprawled across blood-stained fields of green.

“War is not murder.” A shot of embrosis accompanied the voice echoing in my mind.
“I do not agree,” I whispered against the shackles of my broken mind.

Silence swept over me, but just before my consciousness calmed and was soothed away by the forgetful nature of humanity a voice said wickedly, “I do not care.” The voice trailed off into the ether and I was met by the solace that accompanied silence. I enjoyed working in silence.

Warmth blanketed my body as I put away the stories of the past. Rolled up scrolls depicting history lined shelves all around me; they weren’t even memories any more. I picked up my quill and stared back at another piece of blank parchment. It was time to tell a story because history waited for no one.

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