Over the countless years and centuries I have watched and witnessed, I have seen countless texts, scrolls and parchments- both complete and incomplete- pass through hands, be buried, burned, or lost to time.
I write about these the most.
The texts that bind the humens to their beliefs. The prophecies written by the hand of a woman. The truths of the vampires written in volumes. The grimoires of the witches passed from mother to daughter, father to son. I have seen the texts that tell the tale of the Gods get lost to time, their stories forgotten. I have seen the writings of the myths and legends of Ethecorra, penned by those who once heard them beside the crackle of the campfire.
The journals that fall into the wrong hands…or perhaps the right ones, when the time is finally right.
You’d like to hear them, wouldn’t you?
The fragments. The pieces that are preserved through time, and rediscovered by hands that don’t know the weight of what they hold.
Only yesterday, I heard of a text being searched for by both vampires and humens alike. The humens don’t know what they search for; only that the vampires want it.
The vampires search for it as a reclamation of the stories told of their becoming.
Before flame, before form,
before the tongues of men split land from sea,
there was only a breath-
a breath exhaled from the mouth of silence.
That breath became sound.
That sound become desire.
And so desire carved the world.– Verse 1.1 of the Book of Unbinding. Translated by Nerien.
I saw the beginning of the Unbound, of how they came to be. I know what the verses speak of, and yet I do not feel it. Not like they do. They are a sacred species, the vampires. They honour the sanctity of desire and the blood that feeds all. Their power lies in this remembering and the forgotten or lost texts belonging to their faith reinforce this. Only a few have ever passed through my hands, or have been read in its original form by my eyes, but the words are forever burned into me.
This is not a book of commandments.
This is not a book of laws.
This is the remembering.
The final act-
The ache of hunger.– Verse 1.4 of the Book of Unbinding. Translated by Nerien.
~ Nerien.