Entry 2001 – “Bhita’s Proposal”
Date: Year 2001
She came to me with equations already solved.
Bhita never brings ideas—only plans. Her mind runs like gears: loud, precise, unstoppable once in motion. She wishes to harness the Abericlase—not for herself, but for mortals. She wants to share it.
It is not unwise. It is just dangerous.
These husks—our bodies—still pulse with primordial interference. Each site contains not only essence, but intention. Divinity is never inert.
But she believes we can stabilize it. Make it useful.
She wants me to build safeguards. To wrap memory in mist. To make the inside unknowable, and the outside beneficial.
I will help her.
Because if I do not, someone worse will.
Entry 2009 – “Designs of Forgetting”
Date: Year 2009
The temples are nearly complete.
Each one anchors to a central point—the corpse of what we were. The Abericlase is housed beneath arcane silence, with no working Weave permitted within.
I have constructed arcane traps to protect the internal sanctum and memory wards for any who exit. No one leaves with full understanding. Only impressions. Epiphany without origin.
The mortals won’t know they’ve forgotten. And that is the point.
What they learn outside is still valuable. What remains inside must be lost.
It is beautiful work.
For the first time in a long while, I feel... eager.
Entry 2123 – “The Spark of Progress”
Date: Year 2123
They call it the Age of the Mind.
Bhita walks among the engineers and scribes like a demigod. Her name is engraved on machines I cannot comprehend.
I watch children manipulate runes I once hid in vaults. I see cities powered by abstract theory. They have no idea how much they owe to a hollowed-out divine husk buried beneath their feet.
I wonder what Angelina would think of this.
Would she see it as honor?
Or desecration?
Entry 2447 – “Ease Over Inquiry”
Date: Year 2447
A child asked me today why libraries still exist.
He carries a device that answers every question he thinks to ask. He has never once failed, never once doubted. I asked him what he would do if the device stopped working.
He said, "Wait until someone fixes it."
They are no longer curious. They are complacent.
Bhita calls this refinement. I call it erosion.
They reach toward the heavens with hands they didn’t build, powered by names they’ve never spoken, and forget the cost of the climb.
Entry 2693 – “The Price of Efficiency”
Date: Year 2693
One of the Abericlase flared yesterday. A minor rupture. The siphon matrix failed briefly. No fatalities. No memory of the failure either.
That is by design.
I am beginning to wonder if it should not be.
They worship convenience now. They do not seek truth—they seek answers, quickly, and with as little thought as possible.
Bhita says this is evolution. But I remember what it felt like to want knowledge. To burn for it.
Now they let the Abericlase think for them.
We were not supposed to replace gods. Only to become them.
Entry 4219.1 – “Failure of the Lattice”
Date: Year 4219
The lights went out.
Not a flicker. Not a burst. A collapse.
A silence so complete I could feel the absence pulling on the Weave itself.
Each Abericlase core ceased function in sequence—one every twenty-three seconds. I counted. Not random. Patterned. Orchestrated.
The siphons failed. The stabilizers failed. I felt the gods recoil. Even Bhita.
She will deny it. She’ll speak of reboots, of reconfiguration. But I saw it in her eyes.
She doesn’t know how to turn it back on either.
Entry 4221.3 – “The First Trial”
Date: Year 4221
They call them Trials now.
I understand why. The sites twist and churn with echoes of godly intent and mortal projection. The dungeons that were once temples are not static—they are responding. Selecting. Testing.
But they were not made for trials. They were meant to contain memory, to focus divine detritus into beneficial function.
Now they house something else.
I see echoes of Angelina’s fury in the fire-scarred vault of Vulkan Bhaz. I see Bhita’s ambition pulse through machines she never touched. And Krorone’s hatred clings to stone like mold.
Still… they go in. And some return. Not many. But some.
I cannot interfere directly. The pact still holds. But I can whisper.
Let them call it luck. Let them call it fate. If they call it hope, that will be enough.
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