Chapter 35: The Grave Tome

My contemplations grew ever darker. I started to consider Lucille, the young daughter of my brother that had been promised to you for marriage.

With cold sweat beading her brow, Amelia began to slowly translate another line of text that appeared on the blank page, still unsure of how she even partially understood the dark script that appeared in the Grave Tome. She still recalled with perfect clarity the Prime Minister’s words as he explained to her the necessity of her assistance in this endeavor.

“You ... you need me to help decipher that?” Amelia asked as she pointed a shaky finger at the foreboding text. “But why?”

“This book,” said Zand slowly, nodding to the Grave Tome, his hand still quivering painfully as he held it. “Is still being written even as we speak. The Lord Corrupter who rules the Shadow Wraiths is its author. Whatever he speaks, whatever proclamations he gives to his followers in the Shadow Realm, or even in the material realm, will be recorded in the Grave Tome. See for yourself.”

Zanderius opened the book, and Amelia flinched back as a slight squeal pierced the air. The room seemed to be getting dimmer, the light converging in on itself towards the Grave Tome. It seemed almost as if the book was sucking in the light of the room, or snuffing it out perhaps. Amelia’s breath came out in a foggy mist, forcing her to cover her arms as the room suddenly became as cold as a tundra. She could even feel a wind buffeting her back as she tentatively leaned forward to examine the book. She wished with all her might that the Prime Minister had not opened that dreadful text; but now that he had, the scientist in her would be remised to let its secrets go unseen.

Feeling more frightened than she ever felt in her life, even with the Prime Minister’s comforting presence so close at hand, Amelia peeked at the opened tome. She gasped in astonishment. White pages with harsh, black letters in a language she didn’t recognize flowed endlessly from the Grave Tome, darting around the room until pages were all she could see. So many pages, much more than could be contained in that one leather spine. Millions. Billions. Perhaps even trillions. As many pages as they were stars, and beyond even that. Fluttering pieces of paper coalesced around Amelia and Zanderius. The pages became so thick and numerous that Zanderius was soon obscured completely from her vision. She knew he must be standing right next to her, but just losing sight of him made her feel alone and all the more frightened. And she could even hear a voice whispering some alien language in her ear. No, not just one voice, but dozens. Male and female, whispering in somber tones, like crying children telling secrets to their parents. Though the voices continued to whisper, their whispering became louder and harsher. Their words, so foreign and yet so familiar, pierced into Amelia’s brain. It was like thousands of fingernails were scratching her ears out, the whispers slowly morphing into high-pitched screeches. Amelia fell to her knees, begging the voices to stop telling their secrets, stop whispering their lies that they clung to so readily ... but they never did stop.

“There, the last page,” said Zanderius calmly.

Amelia gasped. The voices, the infinite fluttering pages, were gone. Vanished as if they had never been.

Zanderius seemed perplexed. “Doctor Wilson?”

Amelia stood panting. “Where ... where did the pages go? The voices?”

Zanderius nodded knowingly. “So, you could see them, then. The endless flowing pages. The Grave Tome’s true form.”

“I ... I don’t understand,” stuttered Amelia, now quivering even more violently than Zand’s hands.

Zanderius took hold of the book in both hands, bringing it up to his chest. “This book was written at the beginning of time when life first came to the Physical Realms. To most, it is an ordinary text, but there are...” Zanderius cleared his throat, hesitating at what he said next. “A few who can, at times, glimpse it for what it really is. Endless knowledge. Endless pages stretching all the way back to the day of creation itself. The day the Shadow Realms declared war on life itself, profaning all creation as an abominable extension of the Realm of Light. But that’s beside the point. Look here. You’ll see that the book is still being written. Pages are still being added like I said.”

Zand pointed to a page that lay at the very back of the book. Amelia leaned forward even more reluctantly. The last page was torn with only a small margin of text written at the top. But then, as Amelia continued studying the half-torn page, she realized that it was moving slightly. The page was slowly growing larger, as if it were being torn in reverse. And the text appeared to be growing as well as new lines of the scratchy, jagged language slowly appeared on the page. It was almost like someone was taking a pen to the page even as she read it, but she couldn’t see the pen.

Wait! There’s something familiar here. That language. Those words. Yes, I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before. But ... but that’s impossible. This is the ancient language of the Shadow Wraiths known only to the Mages. I shouldn’t be able to understand this. Hardly anyone can.

And yet, Amelia could not deny that she drew meanings from the black letters, scratched in a heavy hand on the page like claw marks. She couldn’t decipher the whole text, but she could at least make out one single word.

“Succumb,” said Amelia quietly, more to herself.

Zanderius smiled gently at her. “And as I suspected, you can read it, too ... at least in part.”

Amelia stood up and backed away from Zanderius, her breath coming out raggedly as she almost started hyperventilating. “I want to leave. I want to leave right now, and get as far away from ... from that thing as possible.” She pointed shakily at the Grave Tome as if it might come alive and bite her. Given all that she’d seen, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it did.

“Shadowscript, the language is called in its written form. Some also call it hellverse,” explained Zand thoughtfully as if he hadn’t heard her. “Malvornian in its spoken form, or the deathwhispers. It is not so much a test of knowledge and memorization to learn this language, written or spoken. I, myself, have studied the Grave Tome for many, many years now, despite protestations from certain ... associates of mine. Yet, in all that time, I’ve only been able to decipher fragments, but never anything substantial. And rarely in time to make any meaningful difference. Although, I am certain that knowledge gleamed from this text can be used for good despite the countless horrors that have sprung from it.”

“Did you hear what I said? I want to leave right now! I don’t care what you want from me! I’m not staying another second near that book!” said Amelia, her voice rising almost to the point of yelling.

Amelia had drawn so far away from Zanderius that she now pressed her back to the wall at the other side of the room. She wasn’t sure why she was reacting like this, but something about that language, about those words, terrified her. She remembered feeling pain. The lash of a black, etched weapon, writhed in shadows. She remembered someone yelling angrily at her. She remembered ... a face. Handsome and kind. At first, she thought it was Eramar, but this face was more youthful than his – less scared. She had no idea where these memories came from, and something told her she didn’t want to remember. All she knew was that there was something wrong with that book. Those letters were not natural, not of this world. She had no idea why the Sacred Vessel of Purity, leader of the Light Monks, would own such a text. She only knew that no one should read those words, whether for good or for evil purposes.

Zand’s face remained impassive as he slowly held the book aside. A small, white platform made of crystal grew out of the floor for the Grave Tome to rest upon. Zanderius held his hands behind his back and looked down.

“This is difficult for me, too, Amelia. I was once careless with the Grave Tome, and it led to ... to more suffering than I could possibly atone for.”

Zand’s face quivered slightly, and Amelia could see tears forming behind his spectacled eyes. Despite his tears, Zanderius pressed on, deep conviction and determination brimming on his bearded face.

“But now, I have a chance, a slim chance to make right some of the wrongs that I am responsible for. That book can show us the enemy’s plans ... plans spoken directly from the Lord Corrupter’s mouth. Plans that not even his closest followers would be privy to for at least days, if not weeks, after I’ve already deciphered his orders. I’ve already averted a few of his designs by studying it. Do you recall the incident that took place on the fringe colony world of Methas, a system that borders Werewolf-controlled space?”

Amelia paused to think back to that time. It had occurred over a century ago, but she still recalled the incident. “There were ... there were rumors of Shadow Wraiths being spotted in the area. A city on the colony planet was sunk into the ground by an unidentifiable black liquid. But, no one died. The colonists were transported out of the city as it sunk into the depths. No one knew how or why.”

Zand clasped his hands before him, nodding vigorously. “That’s because I teleported them out of the city before it sank. That was Dark Water that sunk the city. A coven of Mages committed ritual suicide in order to transform themselves into enough Dark Water to sink the city. With that many deaths, they were hoping to create a tear into the Shadow Realm, and summon forth a legion of Shadow Wraiths for a short while. Denizens of the Shadow Realm cannot exist in our world for very long, but they can linger long enough to cause unimaginable destruction. If those Mages had been successful, they could have staged an attack on the colonies under the control of the Werewolf packs, and sparked conflict throughout the region. I was able to prevent that because I deciphered a single word from the Grave Tome. Methas. I didn’t know the full scope of their plans, but I knew the location, and it was enough to get my attention and prevent a catastrophe. There are several other incidents I could account for you, but I think you get my point.”

Amelia took his words in stride. Considering who spoke them, there was no reason to doubt him. But something remained that wasn’t adding up. “But ... but why do you even need that thing?” asked Amelia, eyeing the Grave Tome warily. “From what I heard, you receive visions of the future. Isn’t that enough to see the enemy’s plans?”

Zanderius sighed sadly. “It’s true. I am one of the few humans supremely gifted in foresight because of my status as the Sacred Vessel of Purity. However, clairvoyance is still limited. I can use it in the heat of battle easily to predict an adversary’s immediate movements. But to see into the far future is a tricky business, even more precarious the farther I try to see. For the future is ever-changing, ever open to possibilities and potential. Further complicating matters is the fact that my rival, the Sacred Vessel of Corruption who serves the Lord Corrupter, can also peer into the future. As we both receive visions of the distant future, our decisions ultimately change to counter those realities that contradict our desired goals. An endless torrent of possibility and potential unfolds before my eyes the farther I try to look, making it nearly impossible to accurately gauge which future will come to pass in some cases.”

Zanderius then patted the Grave Tome, despite the obvious pain it caused him as his face tightened. “But this book is different. The words spoken by the Lord Corrupter himself are irrefutable ... unbreakable. They will come to pass almost as if they write the future itself, at least the future concerning the actions of those who follow him. If you and I discover an effective means of deciphering the texts, any new pages that appear, we can translate immediately and move our forces to counter any movements of his followers. We may even be able to discover hidden Mystics and Mage Covens in our midst, and supplant them with our own operatives. I need this knowledge especially now. Something is coming to Tarrus. I can see that much into the future. Visions of doom and death. I’m not sure as to the nature of this doom, but I know I can stop it if I have a little more information. The potential for good that could come from studying this text is well worth ... the risks.” The last part, Zanderius said hesitantly,

Now Amelia became concerned for a number of reasons as she considered her own supposed role in all of this. “That ... that still doesn’t explain why you need me for this. And what exactly are these ‘risks’ if I do agree to help?”

Zanderius adjusted his glasses and turned away, his posture seeming elegiac. The Prime Minister, arguably the most powerful being in the entire universe, looked decidedly wistful. He put his hands behind his back and stared out into the tiny moving lights in the void that surrounded his pocket dimension.

After a long pause, Zanderius gave a deep, mournful sigh. “As for why I need you specifically for this, I think that will become apparent in time should you agree to this confluence of our translating skills. But the risks ... I will not lie. The risks are great to both of us despite my powers. But far greater to you.”

Zanderius then turned to face her while holding aloft his hand, and the Core that Amelia had thought had been stolen in the Fire Ministry’s catacombs appeared. The orange metal orb seemed to bleed out of the crystalline floor as if it were a liquid, and then float into the air until it came to rest in the Prime Minister’s hand.

Amelia crossed her arms indignantly, though slightly intrigued by his warnings for reasons she could hardly fathom. “You’re not making a very convincing case for me to help so far.”

Zanderius’ kindly smile only deepened as his green eyes focused on her with an intensity that she had not felt from him before. “Ah, but my dear doctor, you are a scientist, after all. The possibility to learn is too tantalizing for you to resist. I know all too well the powerful forces of curiosity that drive you. As a former scientist myself, and dabbler in the scholarly arts, I can already tell that the need for knowledge is overpowering you. Even knowledge that pertains to mysticism is too intriguing to pass up. For we who study Elemency know that mysticism is merely a form of science that conventional technology hasn’t caught up to yet. And though, it concerns me to say, the danger in it of itself is more enticing to you than a deterrent. I will accept your help nonetheless, but I don’t have to warn you to tread cautiously with such a mindset.”

Amelia pursed her lips contemptuously. “I’m sorry, Prime Minister, but are you reading me? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that’s rude for anyone with telepathic abilities.”

The Prime Minister didn’t appear fazed in the slightest as he maintained his grandfatherly smile... “I’ll use whatever means at my disposal to do what I believe is necessary for the good of all. Right now, that means convincing you to help me. But it doesn’t change the fact that I am correct in my evaluation.”

Amelia turned away abashed as she realized that he was right. She was intrigued. More than her fear for what that book represented, she felt in her something deeper. An insatiable desire to learn, to enter this world of alternate dimensions and hellish realities. To chronicle such an undertaking would be the achievement of a lifetime. The warning of danger only made the possible prize all the more inviting. Besides, the Prime Minister of Elemency was asking her, a Fourth Level Medic of the Ministry of Fire to help him. How could she possibly say no to that? But then, she considered Eramar, and how it would pain him if she left him all alone. That man had already been through so much. Countless wars, more than any man could imagine in a lifetime. Abandoned by his parents, no family to call his own. No relatives to speak of. And of course, the constant pain of what happened to his greatest protégé, Billy. Amelia did not want to be the source of only more pain for the forlorn Demon-Slayer.

Perhaps sensing her indecision, Zanderius came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder gently. Amelia was initially startled and moved away. He had crossed the room in an eyeblink to be beside her. She possessed sensory psionic abilities as many Medical-Types did, so she would’ve sensed it if he had teleported, which he hadn’t. Could he have really move that fast, and without making a sound?

Zanderius drew his hand from her after seeing her reaction, his green eyes sad for her. “But I think we both know the real reason that you will agree to do this for me. You need to know. Even now, it’s gnawing at you. The gaps in your memory when you first started reading the shadowscript. How you can even read hellverse in the first place? You need to know why. You’ll never be satisfied until you do know.”

Amelia hesitated, biting her lip to keep down an insult. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt the need to behave rudely to the Prime Minister of Elemency. Amelia decidedly felt less and less like herself the longer this conversation went on.

“But you know why. Can’t you just tell me?” Amelia said, keeping her tone even.

“Some things are better experienced than told.”

Zanderius offered no more explanation as he continued to watch her, waiting patiently for her response. Amelia took a deep breath, and despite the little voice in her head warning her to the contrary, she nodded in agreement. Indeed, she knew she had already made her decision long before he forced an answer from her.

The work started out more tedious and boring than Amelia had expected. By the way the Prime Minister had described it, she was half-expecting a Shadow Wraith to leap out of the pages and wrap its inky tendrils around her to snuff out her soul. They began simply. Zanderius explained what he knew of the shadowscript from his studies. The language contained a few article words that he’d been able to memorize. ‘The.’ ‘To.’ ‘A.’ ‘An.’ But, what was confusing was the number of names in there. So many words were simply names that she didn’t recognize. Names that didn’t conform to any sentient species that she’d ever heard of. Zanderius explained that these were likely the names of Shadow Wraiths, and wouldn’t mean much to anyone outside the Realm of Shadow. Such strange names. Gregoritava. Sonclarexta. Tivalfrakdulak. She wouldn’t even have recognized them as names if not for the capitalizations within the sentences. Although she suspected that some of these names were places, perhaps cities within the Realm of Shadow. She wasn’t sure how she got that impression, but it just made sense somehow. To think that Shadow Wraiths, the most evil and vile beings in the whole of creation, could have cities and names.