I found a dark mahogany board folded upon itself, it seemed to be held together by a brass clasp of some kind. That won’t keep me out. I smashed the clasp with a rusty hammer that I found shoved in a drawer of an old file cabinet.

Inside I found three sheets of what appeared to be dried wood, each are roughly the size of a regular piece of paper.

The first sheet appears to be a drawing, it is burnt into the wood with incredible detail. There is a lone tree in a field of some form of crop. The leaves and branches appear to be on fire, a large plume of smoke billows up into a clouded sky.

Underneath the tree is a figure that is abstract and is at too far of a distance to make out any discernible features. Their hands are raised towards the sky and are either praying to whatever it is that started this fire, or perhaps they themselves are responsible.

The second sheet is a story:

Many, many, moons ago in a secluded spot by the sea, in between mountains three, there lived a small village of fishermen.

These fishermen were strong, smart, and immensely dedicated to their craft. But alas, skill can only take you so far when forces stronger than humanity itself are at play.

For you see, these men ruled the seas. It is said that Poseidon himself would watch in awe as they navigated storms that would have sunk the average sailor a dozen times over. Their sails would always seem to find their way home, no matter what it is that stood in their way.

The gods themselves were jealous of the prowess of these men. They were scared of how quickly they had learned the ways of the water, an element that had always kept man in check.

So one day, they met and decided that they would put an end to this problem…before it even began. It was unanimous and they all agreed that it must be stopped.

First, they tried what they had already tried a dozen times before, but this time they carefully planned and executed.

They sent a storm that made the earth itself weep from the sheer force on display. Lighting and thunder flashed out, echoing across the seas. Violent wind tore at the sails of the fishermen’s boats. They rocked and tumbled and bounced across the sea like a ball in the room of a child. But they held fast…and held strong. The fishermen arrived home exhausted, but they were safe. They told stories and laughed as if it was any other day.

The gods however, were furious at this display. They decided if nature itself would not cooperate and eviscerate their enemies, then they simply had no choice but to do it themselves.

They discussed disease and famine and a dozen other ways in which they could solve their problem. In the end, however, they decided that a more direct approach would ensure that this was dealt with swiftly. There was no need to use nature if there was no one left to tell the tale.

One of the deities, who was always ready for bloodshed, sat patiently while his peers discussed what their next step should be. His name was never spoken, but his deeds covered continents. He was their hand, and when needed he would strike swiftly and without mercy.

When they finally approached him after much discussion he was already prepared.

He gathered what he would need to deal with the insects that plagued his comrades. His gauntlets and sword was all that he decided on. He dropped down onto the village, bringing an undeserved wrath with him.

He danced through the helpless village, destruction following in his every waking step.
He did not discriminate between man, woman, or child. Steel and flame ravaged anything and everything that even remotely resembled humanity. His laugh struck fear into the hearts of any who heard it.

Blood rained from the skies and flowed through the streets as this “God” eradicated a foe that did not even stand a chance. A helpless community of simple people who only wished to enjoy their craft. He killed everyone that breathed in that village that night.

But there was one who did not breathe.

A young man who had fallen ill a fortnight earlier. The medicine men of the village tried every remedy that they possibly could, but to no avail. He soon fell into a deep sleep that they could do nothing to bring him out of.

They did not wish to bury him as he was not quite dead. So they laid him in his room and made sure to try and feed him, although they were unsure if his body was even accepting the food.

This young man awoke that night to the sound of nothing. Not a single person in his village remained to make any noise at all. His body was brittle and atrophied, unable to move properly. He was weak and ravaged by disease, but he could tell there was others who had faced a far worse fate, as the stench of blood filled his room.

He crawled slowly from his room and out into the streets. He saw what had become of his once proud village, a place that he had called home for his entire life. In his heart he knew no man was capable of this level of carnage and butchery. He knew the gods themselves were responsible.

He wept in the streets for what felt like eternity. He wept until he could shed tears no longer, and then he screamed. He screamed until he felt the warm taste of blood coat the inside of his throat. Then when he could scream no more, he made a decision.

He pulled himself up and out of the village to the biggest of the mountains he had grown up under. Then he climbed, for seven days and seven nights.

The elders had once spoke of a tree, high up in the mountains. It was not a place for any sane human to travel. The story was that anyone who wished for anything at all underneath that tree, as long as they paid the price, would be granted it… if their sacrifice was adequate.

Finally, after a week of climbing he stood bloodied and broken beneath this same tree of ancient legends. He listened to the eternal whispers of beings older than the gods themselves. Good, he would need their help. He cleared his mind and thought of nothing but vengeance.

The fires burned bright in his eyes and the branches responded to his anger by lighting aflame.This was how the young man made his deal. By sacrificing what little bit of life and humanity that he had left, in exchange for power that would allow his vengeance. He knew what he would do, now he had the power to do it.

He found the ones responsible quickly, hiding amongst the clouds, yet still on this mortal plain. They were festively celebrating the very slaughter that he arrived to avenge.

These “gods” were no match for whatever it was that granted him his strength. He ripped them limb from limb and danced with their entrails. They screamed, just as the villagers had. Some fought back, but they did not understand how it was there was even a battle to be had. No mortal should have even been able to find them, much less pick them off one by one.

The so called divine fought with those misguided thoughts clouding their minds. So the simple man with cursed and unfathomable strength, beat them to death happily. He broke their bones along with their pride, then he ended their lives eternally.

They all fought except one, the one who had actually carried out the deed of destroying the peaceful village. When he saw the young man approach him finally, he simply placed his weapons upon the ground before sitting on his throne, a strange smile upon his face. Almost as if this was all part of a larger plan.

He did not make any attempt to flee, nor did he resist. He wore that same crooked and devious smile until his very last moments, even as steel plunged into his chest over and over again. He knew his blood would wash away the sin.

The young man never said a word except one, one single word as he sat upon the mangled and torn carcasses of the once supposed divine and their great enforcer.

One word that lives on now here:

Sorzoa.

–

Fascinating.

The third sheet is blank and also the heaviest of the three by far. Strangely enough, it feels almost…warm to the touch. I am not quite sure what it is that means, but I am almost certain it is important. I tucked the thin sheets of wood back into their proper resting place, except the third one. I am keeping that one with me, although I’m not sure why.

It just seems right.