1. Journals

Where Worlds Collide

Culture

The following is a small piece of a book called "Kosmos beyond: What awaits". The book is bound in leather, without any additional decorations but obviously done by a talented bookbinder. 

The body gracefully tumbled past the sheer cliffs and plunged into the water below. A cry of joy rose up from the twenty people lining the edge of the crevice, the emotion sharply contrasting with their grim countenance. For a few seconds they all stood still as if statues were placed there to look over the pool of water down below when, as if by signal, they all stood back and made their way down the hill while comforting words were exchanged, back to their carriages. Their duty complete, they made haste. The sun was still in the sky and there was much work to be done.  

Jaeronimus slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by a dizzying tapestry of green. Trees of varying shades occupied every inch of what he was looking at. He stood up, noticing that white cloth was falling off his body, neatly unwrapping as his limbs moved. His curiosity piqued, he glanced at it. A fine cloth, possibly cotton, it was heavy with water. No wonder it had fallen off him so easily. Before he could inquire further about the what and the why of this cloth Jaeronimus realised that he now had a much larger view of the place he found himself in. Trees filed the area but now that he stood, he could see that he stood upon a slight slope. Far below, he could see the trees clear and a large lake dominating the horizon, sparkling with reflected sunlight. A small river was nearby, warbling happily as it streamed down to the lake. It had not always been this small as seen by how smooth the land around it was. A better path he could not have asked for. Jaeronimous gathered himself and with a lack of concern that he had not experienced since he was a young child he walked by the stream, the lake ahead of him, his goal. What began as a stagger slowly progressed to a walk, to a jaunt, to a skip, to a dance. He felt joy as he continued down this path, his fingers shooting out to touch an errant branch, his voice rising to match the occasional birdsong. The lake, at first had seemed hours away, but he had reached it in moments, his joy-filled stride apparently eating the miles away. Standing on the shore, sparkling water for as far as he could see Jaeronimous took in a deep breath. He was sure this was the most beautiful place he had ever been in. Sitting down cross-legged he waited. A melodious voice, the speaker unseen, greeted him the forest beside him. “You are here. We've been waiting for you for such a long long time. You're home now."


The following is a copy of correspondence between academy members. All such correspondence is copied and kept in the academy vaults. This is entry #793702. 

To the Esteemed Director Archinades. 

As part of our expedition to little-visited settlements, I have prepared this report with our most recent findings. Most of what we encountered was mundane but the way Kosmos, a small settlement high up in the Mithral mountains have me pause. In the village of Kormos, the bodies of the dead are neither buried nor burned as is the tradition of the mortal kingdoms and Dragonlords accordingly but rather are thrown into a steep ravine filled with water. The body is prepared by being wound with gaze and rocks are added in the bottom to ensure it sinks. It is said that once a corpse has plunged into the depths, that it travels to a place that is neither Hades nor Elysium but rather a miraculous place of life, frequented by creatures that are both animal and human at the same time. I have included a book found in the village detailing what the locals imagine happens post-death for context and storage in the vaults. We have classified this tradition as a minor superstition and recommend scholars from the academy to work out a way to incorporate this tale into our own pantheon and priests be sent to bring these wayward people closer to the fold. 

Yours faithfully, 

Savatos Delmaris, Associate academy peer.