Tomes upon Tomes - On the setting Aevosian sun

[Tael 216]

Spoiler

 

 

 

Tomes upon Tomes

On the setting Aevosian sun

 

---

 

"And unto you, my dearest son - though not of my blood, but of my thought - I bestow that which was entrusted to me, more precious than breath itself: a name. My name. The name my father bore, and his father before him: Tomes. Guard it within your breast, and let no shadow steal it away."

 

So spoke Edmond Hyperboreos, my caretaker, the only father I ever knew. His words remain etched upon me as though spoken but yesterday, when I was still a wide-eyed neophyte, ignorant of the pungent truths of our world, yet dazzled by the secret gardens blooming between its cruelties. I remember the candlelight dancing upon the pages of his tomes, the smell of parchment and ink mingling with the faint smoke of the hearth. I was young enough then to believe the world vast, eternal, and kind. How little I understood of how swiftly such certainties could wither. His voice, and the memory of those who took me in when he fell, were the last shapes I clung to as my body hardened into stillness. I recall their faces blurred by grief, their hands reaching, their words breaking against my silence. I thought only of him, of them, as Focus Crystal crept into marrow.
 

That name… it was never merely a word. It was a covenant, a hidden creed whose weight was felt more than spoken. It was my pride - my burden - that I could not pass to another before flesh betrayed me. My frame rots, crystallizes, splinters beneath the strain of the one passion that defined me: the Unknown, the abyssal song of the Void. What gave me motion now unravels me. And still, even in decay, I listened for it, the faint hum between heartbeats, the whisper in silence.
 

And yet, there lingers a fear greater than the void’s maw: to vanish without echo. Forgotten. That the name, Tomes, should be buried and unmourned, its sound extinguished. To be erased not in body but in remembrance - that is the truest death. So I fought - against time, against decay, against inevitability - always reaching for one more device, one more untried path. None endured… save perhaps what cannot be tested, the last thought that slips beyond words. So I leave what remains to those who walked beside me.
 

Aserath and Walter, who first brought me, scarcely more than a boy, to that strange tavern in Old Lurin, where Nepir sat in his timeless wisdom - I charge you to seek my testament. It lies where my beginning lies also, amidst the scattered pages and fractured stones. There you will find the remnants of a life not neatly bound, but scattered - tomes upon tomes, each no more than fragments of a greater whole, yet in there you will find whispers of the person I once was, and the farewell I saved for they who stayed.
 

This is not a farewell. Call it instead a pause, a silence between words. Let not grief bind you, for names are not so easily lost, and some doors, once opened, are never wholly closed. Even in stillness, there are echoes. Even in silence, a breath may linger. Wait still, for we may meet in another life. Though I still draw breath, in no small part due to Nepir's efforts, I talk to you like this as I know the path I must walk... Tomes as he was will end, and aught else shall bloom in my stead

 

 

---

 

Amidst the scattered tomes, letters upon letters were found, each with a name signed on it that would be sent to the specific people as soon as they were found. These go unopened, no information leaked, no words disclosed.
[This information is not to be metagamed]

 

To Aserath Hemasteron, the Twinned Flame

 

Spoiler

@PhilosopherBear
My akhi, my professor, my old  time companion

From the moment you placed the first spark of the Void into my untested hands, you shaped the path that became my life. You were my first teacher, my sworn brother, and the one voice I trusted when all others faltered. Though years stretched wide between us, I never once felt the distance. Our words - whether on the heights of politics or the smallest curiosities of trinkets and baubles - were always a soft bridge. I must thank you for never abandoning this old man, not even when my bones grew weaker and my flesh grew wrinkly.

To you I leave my staff, as you once left me yours. May you treat it not as a relic to be kept under lock and key, but as a memory - of the countless hours we walked side by side, of the knowledge you poured into me, of the brotherhood we shared, though not by birth but by soul. Whether you wield it, cast it aside, or simply let it rest, know that in your keeping lies the last fragment of me worth treasuring.

If names endure in memory, then so too does our bond.

- Harpocrates Hemasteron

To Maelyrra Hemasteron, the Twinned Spark

 

Spoiler

@Kayleigh_P
Dearest Maelyrra, my one and only star-niece
 

Though not of my blood, you are the only niece I was ever blessed to have, and I have cherished you as such from the first moment I swore to keep you safe. I recall with fondness the hours spent teaching you letters, numbers, and the smallest sparks of the arcane - though years and duty kept me often from your side, you have never been far from my thoughts.
 

You have grown in ways I scarcely imagined when you first stumbled over your alphabets at my desk. Remember, knowledge is not only in tomes and theory, but in the way you carry yourself through this world - steady, curious, honest, and kind. That is the most valuable teaching I leave you.
 

If I leave you with anything, let it be this: do not doubt the worth of what you already hold within you. My absence changes nothing of the bond we shared. Should you look to the page or to the stars and remember me, let it be with a smile rather than grief.

- Your Old Uncle,  'Tomes'

 

To Walter Blanc, the Traiteur Raven

 

Spoiler

@6Dark
My dearest Wally, though you despise that name, you'll have to indulge me this final time.
 

Through all the noise and shadow of this world, you have been a constant - my friend, my brother, though fate separated us in ways neither of us could have foreseen. Perhaps it was our shared mortality that drew us close, the knowledge that our days are counted while so many around us stretch beyond imagining. In that fleetingness, we found a kinship that time itself could not erode.
 

I leave to you these tokens, humble though they may be: my hat, worn through countless hours of study and thought, and the cloak you once forged for me with your own hands. Keep them close. Let them carry the memory of our conversations, the quiet laughter, and the silences that spoke more than words. Perhaps in their folds, or in the weight of their shadow, you will sense something of me still - something that endures where flesh cannot.
 

Know this, my friend: your presence in my life was a gift I could never repay. Carry these things, and in them, carry a fragment of what we shared. And if ever you feel a whisper of old familiarity, a flicker beyond the edge of thought, take it as a sign that some part of me still walks beside you.
 

One final request, Walter: guide Medea gently through her grief. Do not let my passing weigh too heavily upon her. Treasure her laughter, her strength, and your life together, for love - like all things fleeting - is too precious to be buried beneath sorrow.
 

- Your Brother in Arms, Harpocrates 'Tomes' Hemasteron

 

To Medea Blanc, Lady Hare

 

Spoiler

@JTMedea
High Lady Medea,
 

Though our words were few, and our time together brief, I write to leave a small token of guidance - and perhaps amusement. You have always commanded respect through strength and wit, and I trust you will continue to do so.
 

I leave you Walter, my steadfast brother in arms, for you to keep, to cherish, and perhaps even… to love in your own way. Treat him well, for should he suffer at your hands, I have no doubt my spirit will find a way to remind you of your duties.
 

Take care, Lady Medea, and know that even those who pass leave small shadows behind… some lighter, some less so.
 

- Your Old Minister, 'Tomes'

 

To Nepir Rosalis, the Ivory Sage

 

Spoiler

@nepir

Esteemed Grandfather Nepir,
 

In all the years I have walked the path of the Void, few have shaped my steps as profoundly as you. You stood as both guide and exemplar - unyielding in pursuit of knowledge, patient in the face of error, and steadfast where others faltered. I have come to regard you not merely as a mentor, but as the grandfather I never had, and as one whose wisdom I quietly aspire to emulate.
 

By the time these words reach you, my body may have surrendered entirely to the forces I once sought to command - perhaps reduced to a lattice of focus crystals, scattered and still, awaiting your judgment. I leave it to you, Nepir: to preserve, to study, to cherish, or to wield. In those shards, there may linger more than mere matter; some small echo of thought, of intent, of the curiosity that ever moved me.
 

It is a curious thing, how the essence of a life might endure where flesh cannot. Attend carefully, as you always have, and perhaps you will find that even in stillness, a question may answer itself… or a spark may yet awaken where none was expected.
 

Know this: your example has shaped me, your counsel has guided me, and your presence has been a rare and invaluable gift. I depart not with regret, but with gratitude, and with the hope that even in absence, the bond between teacher and student persists - perhaps in ways neither of us can fully foresee.
 

- The Left Eye and Sage of Solaeum, Tomes

 

To Iolas, the Wise Bookeeper

 

Spoiler

@kuebiko

Iolas,
 

It has been quite some decades since our paths last converged, though the mark you left upon my early years has endured far longer than I thought. Your presence was fleeting, a brief spark in the course of my life, yet one that shaped more than you might have imagined.
 

I hope, wherever your path now leads, that you have found rest - or perhaps new questions to chase after, new artifacts to study, as we once did together. Know that I remember you as you were: patient, keen of mind, and quietly formidable, and I hope that in some way, you remember me too, even as an echo, a brief intersection in your long and luminous life.
 

If fate permits, perhaps our paths will cross again in another life, in study or in conversation, even if only for a moment. Until then, carry what remains of us kindly, as I have carried you.
 

- Tomes

 

To Alf Vuiller, the Caring Heartless

 

Spoiler

@TheBigBubbles
Alf,
 

We spoke often in the quiet hours, when the world slumbered and only questions of finality were awake. You were the first to understand my longing for what I could never truly have: eternity, an escape from the endless cycle that binds us all. And though you attempted to offer a path, a solution to that desire, it led me in circles I could not break… and yet, I pursued it still.
 

I pass now not with the same struggle I had when we met, but with acceptance, having seen the limits of flesh and the constancy of time. And yet… perhaps some fragment remains, a whisper in the corners of thought, a shadow in the spaces between dreams, where our conversations linger. If you listen closely in the quiet hours, you may sense it - a trace of what once sought to endure beyond the final cycle.
 

I hope, when your own rest comes, that you may find it peaceful, untroubled by the cycles that once bound us me. May you sleep without the burden of seeking what cannot be found, and may the quiet hours that we once shared linger in memory as a comfort, rather than a reminder of what was lost.
 

Even in endings, there is a grace to be found. Carry it with you, as I have carried your counsel all these years.
 

- Tomes

 

To Charms, the Progidious Ancient

 

Spoiler

@DISCOLIQUID

Esteemed Charms,
 

Throughout the ages, few have walked a path so grand and unwavering as your own, with your storied events and your unparalleled expertise that I... did envy, only slightly. In you, I have glimpsed a reflection of what I could attempt to be - undaunted, curious, and yet tempered by a wisdom that only time can bestow. My respect for you is beyond boundless, matched only by my admiration for the potential you have yet to fully unveil after my aid.
 

It amuses me, in my final hours, to consider how our names sit so well together - Tomes and Charms - as though fate had a private jest for us in the ledger of eternity, though I believe I had mentioned that to you before, have I not?
 

Though I depart from the world of flesh, know that my interest in your journey remains. Perhaps, in ways subtle and unseen, I may yet observe your growth, the unfolding of your grand designs, from whatever quiet corner the Void permits me.
 

Carry on boldly, as you always have, and know that among those who have counted you as a friend, I am both grateful and honored to be numbered.
 

- Tomes

 

To Buttons, the Bladesinger
 

Spoiler

@Kabo0m

Dear Buttons,
 

It feels like only yesterday I was teaching you your letters, counting your first sums, and patching up the scrapes from adventures far smaller than those you now seek. How quickly time passes, and how far you have gone since those days.
 

Though distance kept us apart in later years, I have carried pride in the knowledge of the Musin you have become - valiant, clever, and, I hope, living as you wish. I trust that the lessons you took from our time together serve you still, though I know you have carved your own path, one I could never have imagined in my wildest hopes.
 

Carry yourself boldly, Buttons. The world is larger now, and I have no doubt you will meet it with the courage and wit I once glimpsed in your eyes as a child.
 

- Your Professor and Friend, Tomes

To Celie Ardava, the Curious Artificer
 

Spoiler

@ItsSienna

Dearest Celie,
 

From the moment I first saw you study the Void, I was reminded of myself as a youth - bright-eyed, untested, and unaware of the shadows that lurk between knowledge and the world itself. In you, I see not only potential, but a reflection of what I once was, and what I might have been had guidance found me sooner.
 

I leave you something I once carried with reverence: the name Tomes. It is a legacy, a title, and a mantle shaped by years of discovery, struggle, and understanding. Take it if your heart wishes, and carry it with wisdom and care. Should it not feel yours, pass it to whom you trust, and let it continue in the hands of those worthy. The choice is yours, as it always must be.
 

Know this, my child: the world may be cruel, magic may tempt, and the Void may whisper, but you need not walk its edges alone. Learn from my mistakes, embrace what you are, and walk your own path with courage. I leave this to you not as a burden, but as trust, as hope, and as the reflection of a life I once held and now place in your hands.
 

The name Tomes may be a weight, but it is also a companion. Choose wisely, but choose freely.
 

- Your Teacher & Adoptive Father, Harpocrates

 

Edited September 10, 2025 by Tael

[TysCreations 458]

Spoiler

(￣^￣ )ゞ Tomes will be missed

 

[PhilosopherBear 397]

The earie silence was but a never ending storm in his ears. Though not always verbal, Tome's pressence seemed to fill the rooms they once shared. Not being able to keep it together he scarried to his chambers deep within the mountain.

 

The earie silence an avalance, awaiting to swallow him whole. His steps echoing within the halls of Sol, his body nearly betraying him with every step, for he could not sleep anymore. Restless and bruised, he descended upon his chambers at last.

 

I caused all this..."  nothing but a whisper swept away at first

 

The earie silence had plugged his ears with the hay of the foolish, as he heard only that of what he wanted to hear.

 

The earie silence the hands that grasp around his neck. His feet stumbling to bring him near the flame across the table, as he could not bare to read another word of his letter.

 

"I caused all this.." as the flame within him ignited for a moment. His atronach hand smashing at the table, leaving its metalic claw marks upon it.

 

The earie silence swallowed any reasoning whole, as grief washed away, leaving behind only sin.

 

I Caused All This." the earie calmness had claimed his voice, as his hands fell limp on his sides. 

 

The Silence Had Finally Come for Him. The hands that once could rage on shook uncontrollably, his steel focus nothing but flimsy alloy by now.

Yet the fire continued, illuminating the cave weakly, the shadows behind every corner seemingly tormenting him, but this time it was different, as a familiar 'Face' was laying next to him.

 

The whispers grew to echoes and the echoes stacked into calls and the calls exploded into screams as he reached out to silence them.

The Silence had finally retreated, his false face reclaimed, crowning him once again. The screaming got crumpled into calls, the calls got pressed into echoes and the echoes crashed into nothing, as he returned to the only identity he knew, before placing a specific focus crystal shard upon it.

 

 

Like the parasite that it was, whispers dripping like poisononous honey "W̸̡̫͎͔̘͙̟̞̏̀̊͜͠ȩ̵̘̖̭͓̻̪̮̼̩̤̈́̀̾͛͠l̷̢̥̞͚̭̉͂͐̀̾̐̈́̅͌̄͘̕͠͝͝c̷̙̖͖̭̱̼̼͔̯͇̥̰̰̄̽̑̄̇̐͜o̶̫̒͊̔̎̉̈̅̄͂̃́͗̇̏͘m̸̛̟̺̊͑̈́̅̀̂̄͗͛̾̈́͋̒͜ë̶̝̲̘̞͖͍̤͉́̓̽̍̆̔͆̆̓̓̌͘ ̷̛̣͉̲̲͛̑̚͘B̵̲̪̥͋̈͒͝ȧ̴̫̘̖̫̗̳̙͚̅͐̾͗͗͌̂͐̌͜͝c̶̬̰͙̣̐͝ḱ̸̫͈̱̟̺̣͕̈̆̑͆͠,̶̭̙̹͇͉̭̻̩͔͎̱͕̭̝̈́̓͋̊̒ ̴̢̥̜̈̍̄̉͘F̷̨̟̼̘̮̙̄ą̷̯̮̲͈̗̟͔̫͚͉͗̀͆̑͆̃̌͋̀̓̔͒͘͠t̷̟̫̫̤͉̞͍̦̖̎̏̈̿̅̋͜͝h̸̨̛̘͍̲̠̞̜̥́͆̅̿̆͋́̔̈́̐̋͘͝ė̵̡̛̝̪͖͚͓̪͕̘͕̌̀͑̎͐̆͂͌́ͅr̶̦̮̲̜͍̪̻̤̱͙͋͌͗̋̈́́̇́̓́ ̴̱̫̏̏Ř̴̖̲̥̖̯̝͖͚̂̓̿̂͂͆́̋͐̒a̸̧̭̣͕̩͙̘̥͐́̇̎̾̿̓̈v̶͎̉́̈́͂́̈̈̽́̋̍̏ě̵̡͍̿̐̊̋̇͘ͅn̸͇̹̜̟̘̼̫͓̻̺̙̘͎̜̈̀̐̄́̊̃̐̈́̓̓̍̇̔͜" acting as a companion of older times.

 

 

[DISCOLIQUID 2701]

Lofted in a starlit laboratory, skewered by kaleidoscopic vectors of gloam-shaded light trails, a singular charlatan -- more performer than prodigy, frowns. She holds a letter, tapping it thrice; each motion of hers an act, a whimsy, the legerdemain of a liar with less & less to lose. The "Great Wizard" Charms, as much fraud as philosopher, laments the passing of the one and only friend who had seen through her truths, to deeper lies, and peered further still to the unwavering ability couched in the hearts of dreamers, deceivers alike. A sorrow floods the hollow of her manic heart, bids a hand to rise; thumb, forefinger, palm to the nose and face. Behind the pale veil of her grasp, where the greatest tricks take place: substitutions, vanishing acts, bisected aides in their ruby glamour, conjured hares... these colorful prestidigitations fell wayward. In their absence, a bilious sobbing overtook the truth-breaker. She mused her "ancient question", nothing more than a fortune-cookie postulation, the type of riddle you could find on a dollar-value card printed from the Zoltar machine in your ex's favorite dive bar, the worrisome provocation that kept up the ruminating or the honest-hearted -- despite its cheap lacking, its fool's gold ring.

 

"What is the difference between magic and miracle?"

 

And it ate at her, until night threw its starry hands up, abandoned its claims on her sleep. Only morning and the sanitized light of an unflinching sun, judgmental eye perched high in a grey dewy dawn, could lull her to undeserved rest. There, she dreamt of the wizard's impossible: of gullible audiences, of stunts pulled smoothly, and of happy endings. Somewhere in the Never-To, or the Always-Was, or the This-Times, she knew, as well as children know of faerie & filigree, Tomes would trip the light fantastic.

 

 

Spoiler

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

 

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

 

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

 

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

 

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.”

 

― Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

 

 

@Tael The honor of our meeting was all yours, friend, but the joy of it was all mine. I hope you find something fun to do now that Tomes' book is shut! 

 

[6Dark 431]

A quiet sulk was let out in the clinic of Soleaum. He had denied the legitemacy of this news when both his wife and mentor informed him, yet he still denied. In his mind, Tomes was no different than Hank, his now-deceased brother. Though not bound by blood-they were bound by honour and comradery.

Walter sat in silence for a long while after reading the letter, his fingers tracing the edges of the page as though reluctant to let it go. If he were to put this letter away, he would be accepting his brother's death, he would be forced to move on. The words weighed heavy on him, though they were meant to be carried like a mantle, the guilt outweighed his optimism. He should have been there to aid him, he should have been there to prevent his demise. The guilt was akin to an interrogator, confronting every defensive thought Walter had, remindful of every wrong step he took, and every step he refused to take.

The images of what Tomes entrusted him flashed in his mind, his cloak, his hat. Walter did not imagine them as simple objects, he thought of them  as fragments of the man’s spirit. The duty weighed on his conscience, he still wanted to deny that his brother died, after all, they have spoken of unusual ways to cheat the very thing that was naturally inevitable for their kind. His hand traced the very book Tomes had written for him before, he still hadn't finished it as he prefered to savour it. Now, he was never going to, as it simply turned into one of the things he was holding on.

When at last he spoke, it was not to the room but to the quiet air around him, as if Tomes might still hear: "This is nae a goodbye, I know you will return. I will keep your tokens safe, and I promise to return them to you."

With that, just like his old comrades Grimm, Timothy and Greg, Walter swore to never forget Harpocrates "Tomes" Hemasteron's name. For we die twice: Once when our souls leave our bodies, and twice when our names are uttered for the last time...

 

Spoiler

Rest in Peace Sherlock Toimes... or is he really dead... 👀

 

[nepir 472]

Reading over the paper, he was not in his lab, not in his seat where he always sat. No—he was far from the others, deep in the jungles, his gaze resting on the old ruins, wondering what was left of the walls. His handiwork had leveled the city, yet in his memory each street and each house still stood. His eyes settled on the tavern, now nothing more than a patch of grass.

 

He looked around one last time before going to work, rolling out a leather pouch that had seen better days. Within were a needle and small vials of colors. Selecting the light blue, he brought it to his arm, keeping a close eye on the spots he struck with quick jabs. It was a slow, painful, and crude way of marking his skin. With each jab, the tattoos formed. His memories of tomes recalled the young magi striving to master the arcane path, the man who had mastered it, and then the sage—wisdom and mastery combined into one.

Joining many other names in remembrance of lives lived and names kept, Harpocrates “Tomes” Hemasteron’s was now added. a new name to carry with him.

 

“I am glad I was able to guide you in this world. Now I carry you with me until my time comes.” Running a cloth over the fresh marks, the new runes filled another place upon on the elders body