This is a foreword to any who are reading what I am about to write. If you can understand this, you have gone quite mad…
Long away in futures come, and as far back as the eyes can see, there has been, and always will be, time. A concept mortals take for granted, time is the ever marching step of all things living and dead, a binding agent of matter instructing babies to be born and iron to rust. It shackles the knowledge of the universe and the birth of ideas to a hardened linear reality, you must do before you know, and you cannot know what is not done. This concept of order ties down the otherwise chaotic nature of this existent plane, a simple elegant rule that moves the past into the future, synonymous with all matter unto the universe we reside. While there are lesser gods in this universe who may choose to squeeze and shape this reality they ultimately fall feeble to the will and might of time. Time is ineffable. Time is a god. Time is your law. Time is your god.
Some choose to believe time is circular and loops like a ring, others believe it follows the turning of a page, beginning and ending as all things do. I am of the unfortunate disposition in that I know neither case is true, and bear the horrific truth that both cannot be false. If this text still reads well for you, and by the flare in your eyes I expect it does, then do not look away from the page, madness is taking hold now and its friends are bound to have noticed.
To understand what I say next you will have to let go of the notion, or rather, make the notion let go of you, that time is and always will. This is because, as you are about to learn, time is not your god, it is not the epitome of all creation as many scholars suggest. It is certainly your keeper, but that won’t matter once you read the rest. I will make this next part brief. Focus. Your eyes are wandering. Try not to look.
Time is one of the many slaves of conception, born without choice or consent into the ever-war of creation. The slaves of conception know their masters as Kelter and Bedlam, the closest thing in your mind I can find is Order and Chaos. They are the fabric and foundry of all realms and their universes. They occupy every facet of everything and nothing and beyond. Don’t turn around. Time does not know what they want. Ignore their hands. Their war is why anything exists. Their war is where creation lives. Keep hold of the page. They are the higher conceptual that brought you time and space and essentia and matter and all the lessers that grow from them. Keep hold of the page. They do not want. They do not need. They are. They will be. Hold fast in your mind. They made and will make your world. They made and will make Volkan. They made you. Keep hold of the…
