Letters Lost in Time - Karl Jacobs

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It's hidden well, tucked beneath the leaves of a potted plant in the corner. Still, the telltale umber of leather-bound sheets of paper bound into a book doesn't escape vision. After one spends countless timelines surrounded by books, writing them and reading them a million times over, it only makes sense the object's likeness would be burned into the back of eyelids.

FIND A WAY INTO THE PORTAL

It's caged, trapped behind bars of iron that block any attempts to get past. The swirling purple threshold bordered by pitch black obsidian calls to those around it, whispers of promised answers and beckons lost souls to come closer. It seems warm and welcoming. Fingers curl around the barriers helplessly as the obstructive metal make it impossible to come close, to satiate curiosity and follow the tug from the depths of being towards the supposed portal.

IT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU KNOW

It appears twice, one at the foot of a spiral staircase and another in the crevice behind a pillar. Nothing escapes alert eyes, especially not one of the only splashes of color in the palace with pristine white walls and faraway marble ceilings. Steps are soundless as they creep towards the book, an arm reaching out to grab it from where it's haphazardly shoved in the gap between the pillar and the wall.

GO UNDER THE TREE

The water is freezing cold. In fact, the air has grown colder and colder as distance from the main trail increases. A steady sensation of frost blankets sensitive skin, biting at it like shards of hail raining from the sky. Persistence courses through the veins like blood, pushing limbs past exhausted limits to slowly make way towards the bottom of the basin and into the secret room under the tree. Gasps slip past blue lips in search of oxygen, shaky breaths echoing off the walls in the deafening silence. Nails dig into the floor as trembling hands pull the shivering body in a pitiful crawl towards the next book.

YOU CAN'T AFFORD NOT TO

An intrigued gaze skims through blunt words than only confirm deeply rooted suspicions. Relief sets into the core at the solidarity, warming the cold from deep within. The implications still require deeper thought, but that's for another day. All the thinking could be saved for later, in the locked quarters of the underground of a library surrounded by the rest of the information gathered from previous trips. For now, progress has been made and that's more than enough.

... don't stray from the path...

Huh?

Don't stray from the path.

It speaks in an array of wither roses, deep dark and decaying petals fluttering angrily in the absence of a breeze. It speaks in a cold that is far too unbearable, pressing against the body from every side and seeping into every pore to root itself deep into the core. It speaks in books filled with one repeating line, filling every page with that single command. It speaks... and is promptly ignored.

STOP

It speaks, and it refuses to be ignored. It refuses to let its words go unheard, to let the ink of its papers etch itself into every corner of the brain. It refuses to let anyone stray from the path, it refuses to let anyone even d̵r̵e̴a̵m̸ of escape.

DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH

It's loud and demanding, unbearably so. Palms cover ringing ears, but the noise doesn't even muffle. Is it from within? Is it a mere fraction of cruel imagination?

DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH DON'T STRAY FROM THE PATH

.

.

.

JUST LISTEN

It hurts. Pain is no stranger, but is still no doubt unpleasant.

J̷̢̖͈̗̻̙̮̩̩̒̄̈́̿̔͊̽́͘͠͝Ų̸̛̰͔̥͕̠̘̰̞͉̹͔͆̽͋̊̆̑͒͗͐͝Ş̶̨̡̯̳̠͕̣͇̺̳̾̽̑̀͑̾̑̓̕T̵̝͈̝͕̹̱̪͌͑̋͂͂̒̍ ̴̺̬̲͖̦͙̼̗̄͐̄̊̑S̴͚͕͚̞̖͔͔̗̰̦̹̓̄̆̆̿̀́Ţ̸͙̹͈̪̭̲̣͍͇̑͂̔̿̑̚I̶̢̪̘̞̖͖̳̩̳̭͆̿̎͊̾͒̿̌͋̍̋̽͗͛͘C̶̡̤͕̥̒̏̔̿͗̇͜Ķ̶̼̑͊̈́̄̾̉̿͗̒̿͂̚͜ ̷̤̳͎͔͉̬͎͙̬͈͓̓̍̂̅̈́̒ͅŢ̷̡̢͕̥͇̰̤͙̐͠͝Ȏ̵͕̯̻̓̑̈́̚͘ ̶͇͉͔̱̍͛̇͛̃̈́͠T̷̘̬͔̜͂̈́̑͆H̸̳͙̲̤̻͎̯̰͕̐̓̐͐͘Ë̶͔̙̳̙̼̺͎̞̪̣͉͈̻́̈́͋͛̿̓͘͜ ̴̺͎̍͊̽͐̀̂͑̈́̋́̚͝P̴͔̦͓̰͖̥̿̒̆̃̄̋͋̀͗̐̚Ạ̷͈͈̬̺̳̐͛̉͂͗Ţ̶̧̠̥̲̄́̅́͛̇H̷̡̪̤͚̪̱̑͛͂̈

͔̤̭͍̱

It's cold. Cold... cold... cold... cold... cold... cold... he hates cold he hates cold he hates cold he hates cold he... hates... it...

I warned you, Karl.

:]