Final Letter of Veric van Vazoth, King of Vazothema

Dearest Emelia,

Artemis has ever been a man who hungers for power, but what knowledge is not power? I suspected he would be eager to solve these new mysteries but I dared not assume he was the cause. I was a fool.

Upon arriving to his chambers, a repurposed royal library held by some predecessor long past, both the great oak doors were already flung wide hanging off the hinges as if breached by an army, splintered and in ruin. To my horror, several of my servants had been stripped, beaten, and nailed by the palm to the walls lining the ancient library. I feared for my friend's life, thinking some madness befell him. I was too right.

Piles of books littered the chamber, overflowing with more works than such a small library could ever hold, but crammed into every corner to make room in the middle where a great stone plinth had been erected. An arch of stone, carved with all manner of rune I have never seen reached nearly to the vaulted ceiling. On the plinth, a bowl filled to the brim with blood sat, surgeon's blade resting nearby. As I drank in this horrific scene, the runes on the archway lit like green sun fire, and my ears split with the ringing of song. No song like I have ever heard, but the sound was at once as harmonious and beautiful as it was damned and grating. I liken it to the moans of the bridal bed, the chorus of the choirs of the temples, and the screeching of a mother weeping over her dying child. It made me feel things a man was not meant to feel at the same time, lust, fear, desire, and all manner of evil thought with a righteous fervor and judgement that demanded justice. Whatever thought you have of this, I can assure you it was more alluring and terrifying still.

As I fought to steady myself for the small eternity, the inner archway wreathed in bright golden fire, seeping slowly inward until a great mirrored surface formed and I could see myself clearly. A howling laughter I can only describe as hubris made manifest thundered through that gateway and into my buzzing bones as I buckled to one knee and a silhouette formed in the mirror. It stood behind me in the mirror, and I turned in great strife to see my friend at last; a look of satisfaction on his face for the first time since I knew him.

How disturbed I was to see my friend finally have happiness. The grim look of reassurance caused my face to twist and almost snarl, and I called out, "Artemis, what have you done?"

His countenance was stern, and he commanded a presence like I have never known in my friend. In his left hand he clutched a book I had seen him study countless times claiming to be so close to understanding, in his right he held a sphere of purest crystal that radiated the same golden fire, the intensity forcing my eyes nearly shut as he spoke. His words drowned out the maddening choir, but that did not bring me comfort.

"Friend! What have I done?" his voice sounded distant, like the echo of servants chattering in an empty bath house whose marble walls give an ominous depth, "You ask the wrong question," his pause was in time with his chin lifting proudly, 'What have I undone?,'" even now he deigned to correct his friend, and king, "I have unmade the cage of mankind. I have taken the keys to the cell and thrown wide the door!" his cry of victory sounded bigger than his words, bigger than either of us could possibly know. They froze me. as my thoughts struggled to form in the cacophony. What cage? What is this madness?

The golden fires extinguished in a thunderous boom, followed by each green glowing glyph burning out, one by one, leaving behind nothing but stone so marred no marking remained. The servants hanging along the walls, to my horrific shock, were still alive and began wailing in monotonous agony. As I rose, freed from the stunning song in my head and strode toward the first poor soul to free their hands. I searched frantically for some implement to pry lose the nails. As I knocked over piles of tomes and various devices I dare not inspect too closely, my task proved useless. Like the runes before them, one by one, the souls nailed to the walls began to char and smoke without a flame. They were consumed just like the runes on the archway, their bodies lifted feet first and their writhing resembled banners caught in the breeze as they tugged against the nailed palms until naught but dust drifted through the library like a haze of spores.

I had little time to gather my thoughts further. As my mind began to race with how to handle my ill-thinking friend or where he may have gone the very floors of the castle began to quake as if under siege. Books, glassware, and painting clattered to the floor and dutiful soldiers harkened to me from the hall, fast approaching. "My Lord! My Lord!" They called, I had been dumbfounded they had not appeared to hear anything that had just transpired as they barged into the open chamber. Escorted from the scene, the black smoke rising from the bowl of blood on the plinth gave one final sign that the event was over, turning to soot before my eyes.

I recounted this tale to the most trusted masters of the royal academy, and had them hand pick their best to pour over the room and what was still in the library, but their knowledge is, I'm afraid to say, nowhere approaching my missing friend's. In desperation, I confessed the event in temple with the royal confessor. His response was the most worrisome upon describing the events, the description of the singing...if you can call it that, disturbed him the most. "The voice of the gods..." he said almost at a whisper, more fearful than I at hearing it in person, "My king, we may all be in grave danger. I do not know precisely what the royal sage has done, but by your words..." he did not finish his thought.

I send these words as a caution to postpone your visit to Vazothema until I have assured its safety. I pray you and Vizier Assad bin Talesh are well.