To the hapless wayfarers who mistakenly ventured here,

I hope this message fairs you well, and spares you from my mistakes. The Weave has claimed me. It's Weavemasters whisper to me in my dreams, seeding threads of tales, worlds, before my waking eyes. These world's demand life, and I could not refuse. What a fool I am to listen to their call and write them into being. My hands, nothing more than an apparatus for faces unseen.

I Dread what may come of me if I ever cease. Whether they are creators, destroyers, or something in between, I do not know. The eyes watch me-Paega, Astarte, Loka. Their shadows loom, dark wings eclipsing my vision like black crows. So I write-frenziedly-ceaselessly hoping the little I understand will appease them.

Forgive the doors I've opened. The beings-the worlds I've set free were never meant to be seen. Perhaps you will find solace or lessons in these words. Perhaps they were meant to haunt us all.

May you enjoy what the weave has birthed.

Yours forever in Frenzy,
Soulares, your serpentine marionette.