L.T. File: 061: R̀uhɺ Húṭṣùl- The Open Book
The Open Book has changed hands many times over the past two centuries, from Zevemlyan to Ngākauwhenuan, to Aulven, and hopefully finally, to the Twilight Shadows. The book appears as an old nautical log, with some water damage on the outside, but within things begin to get strange. The pages do not take ink, nor lead, nor graphite. Neither do the pages burn nor tear. Magic that would harm or alter the book does not function. The book is not haunted, but there is something surreal within its pages. Written on the inside cover are the initials S.V.M. Tolvisson, a name that never occurs anywhere else in the book and without the meanings for the other initials, could be Borvannian or Zevemlyan in origin.
Whoever is holding the pages sees them fill with words in blue ink. Though the ink is never wet, it always looks slightly moist, as if freshly penned. When the holder of the book reads it, it tells them the future. Their future. It never gives dates, but the events of the book always come to be. Many recorded events describe attempts to avoid the fate; all failed. The book seems to predict bad events more often than good, but almost always start with a soon-to-come good event, like a prediction of fortune. One captain related that his first report was that he would find an ancient shipwreck, and within a month, he had. Furthermore, new logs do not appear until the first ha been fulfilled, as if waiting for the future to come to be.
Unfortunately, the speed at which things take a turn for the worse, and in one instance, even the first log entry was "immediate death by cannon-fire" whereupon telling his shipmates a Zevemlyan sailor was blasted with cannonfire from pirates hidden on a nearby island. Many take the book to be a log of good fortune until the poor fortune comes to be. As previously stated, the book never writes a new log until the prior log has been fulfilled, however, only the person holding the book can see what is written about them. Anyone else looking over the shoulder of the victim of the book will see nautical logs, presumably of Tolvisson.
These over-the-shoulder logs continue as long as the holder holds the book open, revealing some information about the journeys of Tolvisson and his ship: The Fated Star. The entries, when a date appears, have all been dated between the twenty year span of 475 and 455 (pre). Entries towards the beginning of the timeline appear hopeful, bright-eyed, and wanderlusted. As the dates move on, however things begin to get more and more strange, from sailors going missing, to ghost ships in the fog. To lighthouses that when they are approached are simply deep water. Later logs become even more eerie, with Tolvisson himself reporting voices both in his mind and in the fog. Strange shapes that seem to walk the seas, despite the seafloor being fathoms below. Towards the end things become maddening. Eyes in the dark, sailors chanting hymns in an unknown language, tying cannonballs to their feet and stepping overboard holding them in deep waters. The "final" chapters dated in late 455 (pre) devolve from rambling into a single word Y'kr'iss'ma. This word was reportedly repeated over and over again by agent Yssima, who had watched over the shoulder of the captain of her vessel. Her captain, within a year had gotten scurvy and died, despite eating oranges every day after reading of how she would die in the tome. After that Yssima closed the book and did not look inside, taking the book to the Tranquil Sanctum where it has been psionically vetted as a sphere 5: Vwù danger, and locked away in vault Emerald.
History
I. Personal Journal of a Victim of the Open Book
(Recovered from the wreck of the Wistful Arrow. Handwriting grows increasingly erratic over time.)
Day 3 of Moon-Week I, month 7, Year 102 (pre)
They handed me the log today. The so-called Open Book. Felt light in my hands. Too light for a binding that old. Captain said I must carry it—we drew lots, and I drew the short straw. Everyone laughed. So did I.
When I opened it, the page filled with blue ink. Fresh-looking, though dry. You will find a sign of fortune within the week. Well, that sounds fine. I’ll take it. Over my shoulder, Lannis swore he saw something about shoals. Nothing about me. That is a mercy.
Day 12, Moon-Week two
The book spoke true. We fished up a crate of Ngākauwhenuan pearls snagged on a rock. Captain says we’ll sell them for a fine bonus. I laughed again. Another line appeared only when I touched the page: You will soon see what lies beneath your reflection. Do not lean over the rail at dawn. Cryptic nonsense. I splashed water in a bucket and stared in. Nothing changed. Still my face, just the bottom of a bucket, superstitious nonsense.
Day 20
Of course now all I can think about is leaning over the rail at dawn. Humans are cursed with curiosity.
Lannis saw Tolvisson’s neat handwriting: “Storm warnings, light swell.” Nothing more.
Day 21
I didn’t lean. I stayed in my bunk. I stayed and stayed and stayed. But the book did not write a new line. It… seems to be waiting.
Lannis mentioned as he looked over my shoulder as I waited for a new line to appear that the text said "lighthouse illusion, waters are very deep here."
Day 25
I slipped. That’s all. Rounding the forward deck in the half-light, the boards slick with dew, I grabbed the rail to steady myself and my reflection stared back wrong. I can’t explain it. The water was too dark to show anything, yet I saw eyes—mine—blink up at me before the sea swallowed the shape whole.
Later that night, I opened the book again. The book’s blue writing trembled when it appeared: Your lungs will fill with what is not water. I am afraid.
Lannis is worried for me, but stated that the note from Tolvisson simply said "clear skies"
Day 32
I felt it today. A tightening in the chest. No fever. No cough. Just… pressure, like the deep trying to press into me. I will not touch the book again. When I close it, I hear pages turn behind the cover. As if someone inside is waiting to read me.
Day 34
Breath tastes metallic. Crew says I look pale. Lannis offered to take the book so I might rest. I refused. What if holding it is the only thing that keeps another from suffering what is mine? It wants events to complete themselves.
Day 36
Woke choking. Spat up something clear but thick—not seawater, not phlegm. Like jelly. Gods. I try to write but my hands shake fiercely.
Day 37
Your lungs will fill with what is not water. I know what it meant, now. Something moves in me. Creeping. Expanding. Alive. This is my last entry.
If anyone finds this:
Do not open the book.
Let the future remain unwritten.
—Havran Tol, deckhand, age 27
Editor's note no remains were found on the ship, though blood spatter indicates something other than man-made weapons did in the crew. The ship seems to have been adrift until crashing into a shoal. Both books were reportedly found by a Ngākauwhenuan buccaneer upon finding the ship. He sold the volume here at market, though apparently did not sell the Open Book at that time. This volume was procured from a collector at a cost of 50 gold Zevemlyan Vanders. also, the events of this corruption indicate very swift danger, as the entire course of this curse took place over the course of less than one full month, extreme caution suggested. - Archivist Dlethraun Vey-Deepcavern, Tranquil Shadows Oral Wing
II. Report of Agent Yssima—Ashen Sky
(Filed to the Tranquil Sanctum, Vault Emerald Accession Records. Sphere 5: Vwù designation confirmed.)
Observational Report: The Open Book Incident, Vessel Lapis Verge, Year 85 (post)
When Captain Mera Lothren drew the book open, I positioned myself behind her at an angle permitting direct line-of-sight to the page. The captain insisted on full transparency. She wanted me to record what the book said of her. Instead, I recorded what I saw: Tolvisson’s log.
The date read Moon-Week I, Month 10, Year 457 (pre).
He wrote of fair winds and a bright horizon. His optimism was palpable. Nothing pertaining to Captain Lothren appeared to me. But the captain went still. Her breathing slowed. She swallowed and said: “It says I die of scurvy.” She laughed. Bitterly. “Impossible. I eat fruit daily. Aulven-grown, no less.”
She kept the book open.
Each time she glanced away, a new Tolvisson line appeared for me:
– “Sailors missing after night watch.”
– “Whispers roll through the fog like tides.”
– “Saw shapes on the waves taller than any mast.”
Captain Lothren paled. I asked what she saw. She refused to say. The next day she doubled her orange ration. Over the next moon-week, Tolvisson’s entries grew frantic:
– “They chant now, I only later realized I was chanting as well.”
– “Cannonballs tied to their legs, I watch them sink, afraid, but oddly detached..”
– “Fog breathes. Fog watches.”
– “Y’kr’iss’ma.”
– “Y’kr’iss’ma.”
– “Y’kr’iss’ma.”
The final entry repeated the word in dozens of lines until the page threatened to drown in it.
Captain Lothren deteriorated quickly. Her gums bled, and no amount of citrus slowed the progression. All tests confirmed it: scurvy, impossibly rapid. She died within two days. No amount of citrus helped.
I closed the book and sealed it within a dreamfire ward. I did not open it again. For three days afterward, I heard the word Y’kr’iss’ma whisper in my dreams. When awake, silence. The psionic vetting concluded no permanent intrusion.
Recommendation:
Do not allow holders to look into book. Immediate containment required.
—Agent Ashen Sky- Yssima
Post note: I have not heard the word again in my mind, and will await performance review before going back into the field. I think I will take a land-locked mission next. to be safe.
III. Historical Archive Records / Obituaries of Known Holders of the Open Book
A. Zevemlyan Obituary Notices
(Found in the bureaucratic registries of the Vashari Port Authority. Characteristically terse.)
Shipmaster Endrik Vos.
Cause of death: Cannon-fire.
Incident occurred during an unsanctioned shore investigation.
Body unrecovered. Inventory discrepancy noted.
Record closed.
Seaman Talla Reev.
Cause of death: Exposure.
Found on beach outside jurisdiction.
Personal effects included illegal tome.
Case transferred.
Record closed.
Quartermaster Helvik Dam.
Missing at sea.
Presumed drowned.
Inventory discrepancy noted.
Record closed.
B. Borvannian Memorial Accounts
(Recorded by the Harbor-Stone Scribes.)
Ser Borrum Thane-Dross, Navigator of the Pride of Lions.
Let it be honored that Ser Borrum steered his vessel true even as fate itself conspired against him. Upon discovering the prophetic log of the foreign mariner Tolvisson, he bore its burden alone so that his crew might sail untroubled. When dark tides rose and claimed him, he met them standing.
His name is carved into the Keel-Hall of the Bold.
Lady Marra Winfell, Keeper of Charts.
A scholar of seas and storms, Marra sought knowledge where others feared to tread. The book foretold her final voyage, yet she did not shy from it. In her passing she upheld Borvannian dignity: steadfast, unbroken, unwavering. May her memory walk with all who sail the surf.
C. Aulvi Remembrance Listings
(From the Communal Book of Returning. Library of the Son)
Havran Sea-Cucumber, who once sailed the Wise Frog.
We remember Havran, who carried the Open Book when others would not. We mourn the fear that shadowed his last days, and we open our doors should his spirit seek warmth among us. May he find peace in his Aulvistone, and may he dream gently when he returns.
Captain Mera Lothren, whose laughter once emboldened storms.
Mera read what she believed unchangeable, yet fought it with all her strength. Her passing was swift, too swift, and we grieve the stillness she left behind. She was a human, but lived among aulvi as one of us. She was lost to the depths. Should she drift back to us in ghostform, we will greet her at the pier with lanterns lit.
Rellin Star-Quay, Dockhand.
Star-Quay held the book but briefly, yet the sea claimed him soon after. We honor his memory, and welcome his wandering echo home.
Notes translated and compiled by Linguist Sèyru- On Glass.
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