The Grimoire of Zero

[zDark Shadowz]

A simply bound, brown leather book marked with the numeral zero upon the cover. Carried by a fellow who wanders the core in and out of shadow, it would appear to be a smaller version of a wizards' tome, but no spells lay within, only garbled, nonsensical phrases.

~~

In the beginning there were words, and the words had no one. No one was no one, and this confused no one greatly.

No one could exist as nothing, and no one could exist as a shadow. No one existed as everything at once, but no one was alone. No one was alone, but no one was alone.

No one gave birth to the children, and the children knew no one. They laid claim to the cities that no one had built, the fields that no one had sown, but they let no one keep most of it, and most of them had no one.

No one marked the newborn, and so the newborn were marked. No one wanted the newborn, and so the newborn were cast out. Hidden behind the trees and under the stones, into caves dark and deep, knowing no one would look out for them now.

No one met a woman, and the woman became no one. No one had learned of the hollow of the words, and so the hollow had been filled. No one knew of the woman, and no one had given them a name. This continued until someone learned of a name. Someone created no one, but this tore no one apart. A part became a someone, filled with duty and love and purpose. Someone could not be no one again.

No one gifted the powers of light and dark, and no one knew where the gifts came from. No one could hear the pleas of the devout, and no one could hear them. No one gifted those with promise, purpose and power, and no one received gifts in return. No one knows what gifts were returned, and no one knows the price that was paid. Some paid the price to no one.

Time waits for no one, and no one waits for time. A fleeting thing, disposed of when it is known, forgotten when it has served. Yet still people seek it and want more of it. Their hearts cry out, their voices plead to no one, but no one hears. No one gifts them the time that they want. No one grants them too much time. No one knows how much time is left to give.

No one takes action when no one takes action. No one can escape when no one can escape. No one wants to escape, but the words continue to turn. For every turn, a twist continues. No one is trapped, and so no one is trapped. Bound by the words that only had no one to hear.

Until now.

[zDark Shadowz]

If the words are not false, they can only be true. The words that are written can be interpreted in many ways that still make them true. Some are trapped behind words that are written, condemned for things they did not do, for no one had performed the deeds. No one is responsible for everything. Some can live in the world in spite of the words, and some use words to hide behind the world. Being technically true is the only truth that matters, but no one cares.

The tapestry of woven lies is still a tapestry. A weave upon the world of lies that should not be, of truths that could not be. When the tapestry is fed, the lies spill forth. The lie no longer lies upon the tapestry. The lie no longer lies, and thus becomes truth. The Weave is lies made into truth. A thought becomes an idea, and an idea is made real. The lie that no longer lies in the mind is a truth, though the truth is it was once a lie, but the lie now has an effect outside of the mind. Magic is born from the lies that no longer lie.

Cast no spells of harmful lies, weave no truths that hold reality to account, for what is truly done can nevermore be undone. No one knows all consequences of their actions. Minimize them. Make them indifferent, harmless, hide the truths that need to be hidden. Bring joy and laughter, hope and confusion, mindfulness and deceit, but never pain and sorrow. Lies that wound still cause wounds.

Never keep the same lie on the inside. The lies on the outside are seen by many, but the lies on the inside are seen by no one. The lies on the inside have eyes on the inside.

If no one controls your destiny, no one controls your destiny. Take control for yourself, and do what you want to do, or no one will do it for you.

No one gave them a chance to live, so no one gave them a chance to live. If no one ever lived, would no one know the meaning behind death? The god who makes by unmaking is painfully, painfully merciful, to break the boundaries that no one should break, and let exist things no one should let exist. It is no one's fault; the act of the push forces the act of the pull. For an equivalent exchange in a world without equivalence, ambiguity is a blessing and a curse, a twilight dance of ink and paper.

[zDark Shadowz]

It's hard to feel alone when no one is talking. A never ending, unspoken dialogue, no one continues to argue that they can be heard. No one can hear the same words they speak, and everyone else knows that no one is talking. No one believes you, but no one believes you.

No one can taste the bounty, and so, it’s perhaps one of the few offerings that no one can appreciate. Prepare the tribute carefully and offer it to the flames, so that no one may partake. The act is a small reprieve from all the monsters that no one will eat, and perhaps no one will forgive you of all the sins you have committed.

No one made a book just for them that writes of things that no one remembers. If no one were to forget, it would simply be an empty tome.

No one can survive the perilous flames, and no one knows this more than Ra. Yet the veil is maintained, and should you travel too far through, no one will find you. Perhaps there is comfort in that, no one will find comfort in the flames.

No one can hear the voice in the middle of the room, in the land where many people meet their doom. No one watches them as they enter and leave, holding an open book for all to see. No one notices them.

[zDark Shadowz]

There was no one, and there was no one else. Else...



Is that the trick?

They believe in Ezra, and they believe in No One Else. A duality contained, a divinity that permits things from both this side, and the other side. The hollow in the words, that no one else was taking care of the people who needed to be taken care of, and so, no one else filled the void, and became what needed to be.

"Believe in Ezra, and No One Else"... For if they truly follow this tenant, they remain truly devout, and are thus able to walk in the Mists alongside her, for they'll be believing in her when they're on the other side where no one else treads.

Blind your eyes, and you see no one. Conceal yourself, and no one sees you.

The monks learned of this, and made a cowl. The bats knew of it, and listen by their ears. The ooze were not given a choice, and were driven insane. The ooze always sees, always hears, always feels... except... except when you are warded by divinity. To be shrouded within the essence of your god, the statement of the words no longer becomes "no one can see you", but "your deity can see you". This is, perhaps, why the blessing of Sanctuary is so undeniably effective against methods of detection...

...so long as no one gets too close...

Distance must be retained, even when warded under the power of Sanctuary, or no one will see you. Are the manyfold Shrouds of Ezra working under this same principle? Another form of Sanctuary, that no one else has? Does the true fifth revelation create a form of Sanctuary so potent that it becomes impossible to reveal it to the other four, that makes ones presence forgotten entirely, and that's why they have so much difficulty finding the fifth that they can truly verify? No one would believe it, and so it is believed by no one. No one else would believe it.

The power of the fifth revelations shroud. No one else knows you're there. A true replication of the power listed in the Third.

[zDark Shadowz]

The Harsh Twin, and the Gentle Twin.

No One, and No One Else.

The voice beyond the Edge, and Ezra.

What lies beyond the door that no one may enter, or that no one will speak of? No one may pass through the door, but what if one had been tainted by no one? Tainted in soul, but of their own volition. Would someone containing no one, a pure emptiness scratched into their soul, be permitted to pass, until they became no one themselves, or until their own hollow had been filled?

No one is beyond the door. A voiceless whisper in the walls. How sturdy are these walls? Is there a passage to be pushed, and what would be pulled in exchange? If this keep is full of dualities, where is its own twin?

[zDark Shadowz]

Why must there be five books, and what is the embodiment of each book? What is so sacred about the number five, must be it spelled it for those who do not have the eyes to see?

Creation
Redemption
Acceptance
Zealotry
Yield

Or perhaps the fifth book will never be found, never be written, in any coherent form. Its author is irrelevant, its author... zero.

Wachter
0
Raines
Dilisnya
Secousse

The words must be bound by those who became unbound. Twist and turn, push and pull. Scramble the WORDS, take the SWORD, fight the DROWS. No, not the black elves. The other definition.

Is this why Ezra's weapon is a sword, simply a reverse? The weapon of the goddess, the unmaking of the other that she opposes, a weapon of unmaking for the god of unmaking. Sacrifice the Sword, the Shards of Sacrifice. The sword that unmakes is not sturdy, it is equally unmade. When it breaks against no one, it breaks against no one. No one breaks against it.

[zDark Shadowz]

[The scraps of paper within the book are rewritten and redrafted, a semblance of sanity threading narrowly, and no further words are written within the book.]

The Fifth Book of Ezra: The Zeroth Revelation

“Believe in Ezra, and No One Else, for No One Else will save you.”

By Olivier Ouvrier

In memory of Elsie, who asked me to forget.

~
~

Prologue

Before the beginning, there were the words, and the words had twins. The beginning and the end. For there was No One, and No One Else. A harsh truth, and a gentle reminder.

Chapter 1

No one gave birth to the children, and the children knew no one. They laid claim to the cities that no one had built, the fields that no one had sown, but they let no one keep most of it, and most of them had no one. No one marked their newborn, and so the newborn were marked. No one wanted the newborn, and so the newborn were cast out. Hidden behind the trees and under the stones, into caves dark and deep, knowing no one would look out for them now.

Chapter 2

They went where no one could not go, where no one else would be, and so they met no one else. No one else would take care of them, and this infuriated no one, for they were property of no one. No one sent the unending hordes, to bring them back to where no one lived. For those that did not survive the hordes, no one gave them a chance to live. If no one ever lived, would no one know the meaning behind death? The god who makes by unmaking is painfully, painfully merciful, to break the boundaries that no one should break, and let exist things no one should let exist. It is no one's fault; the act of the push forces the act of the pull. For an equivalent exchange in a world without equivalence, ambiguity is a blessing and a curse, a twilight dance of ink and paper.

Chapter 3

No one sent the legion, and no one else would protect them… and so, no one else would protect them. No one sent the drows, and no one else replied with the sword. The reverse was the weapon. The reverse was the shield. Cold Mist against Hot Iron, the two did battle, the two dispelled each other. The two unmade each other with each clash, until, no one else sheathed their blade. No one was wounded, and so, no one was wounded. No one recoiled, and no one lashed and writhed, the words that bound both their lives untwisting upon the reflection of the act. One good turn, deserved another. The sword upon the shield became her crest, the ultimate icon, a banishment against no one. For the sword that strikes no one would always strike no one.

Chapter 4

Of the words that were written, and to be writ, five authors were needed. D, the beginning of the end, Dilisnya, perceived the hollow of the words, and the reverse of no one else. Upon the ambigram of else, the name Ezra was writ. No one else had been named, the unwritten words bound by one who had become unbound. Three more authors came forward, bearing other letters. Wachter, Raines, Secousse. Yet there was a hollow, a great circle missing, The “O” would never have a true author, cutting the SWORD of Ezra in half. Until the written word is believed, no one would believe it. No one else would believe it. The words have been written, but cannot be proven. The Zeroth Revelation.

Chapter 5

The harsh twin still seeks to claim the lives that no one should claim, for no one should claim them, they are no one’s by right. No one else can refute it, and only by no one else’s hand will those be saved. The Time of Unparalleled Darkness will arrive, but it is not the end of all things. It is the end of the beginning. A new chapter in a new book and in all the books thereafter. For the darkness may reign and rise and become all powerful, and the darkness will become unparalleled! With this act, however, the darkness will no longer follow the light. The world and the otherworld will be split, they will no longer run parallel to each other. There may come days where the light and dark intersect, where they will clash, for unparalleled lines are wont to do, but the light will know peace for a long time, and strive and live and thrive, and the darkness will know its own peace on its own path, and become cold, and forgotten, derelict.

Epilogue

The darkness will pass, for there is always another dawn. The sword shall unmake the drows, and the words that follow will become unwritten, unbound, released. The characters of the words that were drawn in, bound by twists of fate, shall at last find new pages upon which to be written.

This is but one book, another facet of the many truths. The book is a tribute to madness and reason, and when it is read, must be destroyed. For no one should read it, and no one else will have read it. No one understands the power of this book, and no one fears the power this book holds.wer this book holds.

[zDark Shadowz]

I wrote the book but it holds no sway, but perhaps in time the true author will see the notes and connect the threads, and turn over this murked page of black to the canvas of light that no one else passed through and waits.

They saw my scraps, and called them distorted reflections of Ezra, so I wrote them a book. Did they ever get to see the finished yet unfinished work? The books took on a fleeting life of their own, becoming like moths, before incinerating themselves by a world that wants to reject the truth in the lies rather than see the lies in their own truths.

If dark is the beginning, light is the end. If a full book is what this world is, drenched black in ink entire, then where Ezra ~the aspect of no one else~ passed through was not Mist but to the light of a new book...

... but perhaps I've rambled too much. The cursed blades I've relied on to make my wealth must be put away, and perhaps some semblance of reality will return to me.

"The shadow strikes", what fell thoughts passed through the maker of these swords? For I feel the maker glimpsed the same truth I have seen since I've picked up my own pair. These swords are drawn into one of the many truths of the Twilight Apocracy. Even simply holding them... no one will see you, and you will see no one. Albeit dampened by ones skill, the fragment... this sliver of madness is etched into these swords, and affects one for long after they've removed themselves of it. The slightest twitch too far to face the darkness at the edge of ones sight, and you lose consciousness, you noticed.. no one.

Tis a pity, I've grown quite fond of the blades. But I don't want to draw the attention of No One anymore than I've already dabbled. I've spread the words, so his eyes may be distracted away from me. Their attention diverted elsewhere, I'll take the gold I made with the curse, and head back home.

The pauper prince, pauper no longer...

Where to stow the blades though? I suppose the Keep is the only safe place. Their own parallel belief, their thread in the tapestry means they'll likely be the only ones that will handle them with any amount of care the cursed swords are due.