Book of the Witness — Proof of Concept
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Foundations (2017–2021)
Early, non-canonical fragments preserved for context and record. These writings predate the current structure of The Geban Chronicle and reflect formative exploration.
Question of Lamlen Reud (2017)
How should one believe in an undying flame, when the wind brings sorrow and forces the sea beyond her given home?
We asked:
When the flame accepts mortality, will he burn brighter than ever before, or will the sea and her quaint ways extinguish the flickering lights beyond the sand? Will she cause blackened nights as the sky anticipates the birth of a moon? Or perhaps bring about the beginning of dead spring, from dying grounds and drowning trees? Away from us will go potential pestilence, and behind, the birds who drop their seeds?
We later realized the flame had been rejected by summer’s touch, no more evening rays colored in rust. And so this once-vibrant home would become a marsh of black, with fog so dense we no longer answered to the sun’s precepts.
Many became we, as we became few, and the few gave birth to more, but more became few again, and the few then became one.
Am I, are we, to blame his flame for forsaking us, or should I shun her seas for bringing this havoc that pushed his light away?
Only the glowing insects and iridescent flora seem not to mind, though their absence in the cold season tells their tale of the same struggle against time.
My love for her, the forest, has not changed; though mangled, misshapen, and dark she may be, it is why I chose to stay and not flee to the northern countries.
Long ago, her life was taken by the sea, but his undying flame has given me cause to see, even after many winters, that she still lives, simply dormant, in sleep.
Only I remain, standing over the shattered remnants of her heart. If flame can be extinguished, why do I not part? Why am I still able to hear her life beating beneath the wet soil?
Bane of the Moon’s Light (2017)
As his shadows ascended the frozen steps, his eyes were blinded by the frosted winds of the Storm That Calls the Moon. Unable to see his path and barely able to keep his footing through the darkness, he pressed on until he was scarcely visible to any who observed.
From the base of the peak, we watched. Even she, the moon, was blinded, her light crying out to him as he followed the faint glimmers that forced their way through the blackened cloud of ice, blessing him with direction by reflecting off the steel of our fallen brothers.
The sound of his perseverance echoed through the mountainous valley, piercing the frozen veil of the storm, until at last his distorted cries grew clear, and the entire field heard his voice raised to the storm:
"Give me your blessing! Allow me to pass! I alone have endured this dark ritual you have named a test. We know of your old tryst with her light! How much more blood will soak the field because you will not help us end this war?"
"You do not command me!" came a thundering voice, as powerful lightning struck the center of the storm, sending huge fragments of the mountain’s peak raining down upon the onlookers.
…
His Birth, His Undoing (2017)
As you look into the night sky, you watch as blackness falls. Avoidance is impossible, for this you do for all…
The Horned Man (2018)
He was a horned man, draped in the colors of triumph and ruin…
The Body’s Promise (2019)
The body has been given, again and again, to men and women alike…
Suppression and Severance (2021)
The place where God was once spoken became a grave of hollow language…