There was a time I saw the Atlas as a miracle — a gateway to infinite potential. How naïve I was.
It is no promised land. It is none of the things I, or my father, once hoped it might be.
The Atlas has become a lure for the ambitious. A tool for those who would shape reality to their will – and a trap for those who cannot see the cost. By the time they understand what it truly is, if they ever do, it's already begun to take hold.
It does not consume you all at once. It wears you down. Thought by thought. Layer by layer. Until you are something else entirely.
I wish I could say that I knew how to stop it. But I will find a way. I have to.
— The Journey |
Sirus and I enjoyed a simple collegial relationship, at first... it was hard not to be impressed by him. He was the finest of the Elderslayers – the brightest mind I had ever encountered.
Together, we wholly dedicated ourselves to combating the growing threat within the Atlas.
But as with all singular pursuits, we grew blind to the dangers around us. Too possessed by purpose to consider the cost – to ourselves, and to one another.
Over time, the Atlas took hold of Sirus. His transformation was not merely of flesh, but of purpose. Twisted into something... unrecognisable. Whatever existed between us, died alongside who he once was.
Perhaps it was my fault. I should have seen the signs, should have prepared him for what awaited us. I should have seen many things... now, I choose not to see. I choose not to see the decay, the distortion... the misery.
What happened to Sirus must never happen again. No more will be lost. No more pain. It is why my work with the Atlas remains not only vital, but necessary.
— The Neglected Flame |
The odds against success were... beyond measure. And yet, somehow, it worked.
I set the threads in motion across time and space, and intervened before the timeline that would have consumed him began to take shape.
What he remembers - what he {believes}... is enough. He lives, untethered to the Atlas, unburdened by what came before – or after.
It was the only way to save him. And perhaps, the only way to save us all.
— The Success |
Few can claim to have as much blood on their hands as the Templars. In their thirst for power, they cared not who they trampled – whose lives were ruined, whose families were torn apart at the seams.
A handful of men, and yet they commanded thousands. Thousands willing to commit horrors in the name of 'virtue'.
My own memories of the Templars are nothing short of brutal. What they did to my family... what they did to so many...
And always, behind it all, the Atlas – the great unspoken prize. They saw it not as a danger, but as a weapon. A path to dominion.
When power is given form, it invites those willing to twist it. The Templars did just that – and the scars remain, burned into the world... and into those of us who survived.
— Rage of the Templars |
I believed I had set enough safeguards in place to prevent him from following in my footsteps. More fool I, to underestimate one such as him.
That he came this far – that he reached so deep into the Atlas – perhaps it was inevitable.
A part of me cannot help but feel... proud. He overcame every obstacle I placed before him.
But there remains one barrier he must never breach.
Some truths unravel more than they reveal. Each thread he plucks in search of answers draws us nearer to disaster.
— The Outcome |
Belief can elevate. It can also erase. I've seen it in men... and in those who rose to godhood.
There is no greater irony in all of Wraeclast than the name Innocence – a symbol of supposed purity, used to justify untold atrocities. From the time I was a child, I saw what belief in his name could do. What it {did}. Such memories do not fade.
Faith, when unchallenged, becomes a force no less dangerous than any god. And the Atlas... is no different. It does not ask for worship. But it rewards devotion, in a twisted sense of the word. It remakes those who follow it – not into saints, but into zealots.
I need look no further than Sirus... or my father...
— Mind of a God |
Little moments... few and far between... mountains, canyons apart... twisting and shaping us, without warning, without us even being aware.
For better or worse, father meant well. He meant well for all of us. He meant well for me. And I shall always admire him for it.
Even now as the Atlas tries to betray our hearts, I love him. He is still my father. He is still... our Valdo.
— Little Moments |
A man came to visit today. Father called him Uncle Eramir, but I know that mother didn't have any brothers.
I think Father is just trying to make me feel better, like it's not just us. But it is. It is just us now.
I won't be sad, because I know Father is. I'll be sad later, when it's not just us anymore, so maybe Father won't feel so lonely.
— Uncle |
My journey was not without faults. I see them now. Whatever I have become, whatever... I became... is now laid bare. Though I now see my errors, she is blind to me.
— The Blinded One |
Our very existence seems bound to draw out the folly of men. Dominus, Venarius... even me. I know I've grown less kind, less attentive to Zana, because of my grief.
I even became irate with her once. I fear the darkness in each of us inevitably grows and coils through our minds, as the world batters at our frail walls of ignorance and pride.
This place, these Dreamlands... if the real world is flawed, perhaps I could build a better one...
— The Dreamlands |
The High Templar grows increasingly cruel with me. Venarius suspects my involvement with the secret heretics, but he misunderstands. I have never known such a bitter fury.
The 'truth' about Innocence means nothing to me, and the Templars can tear each other apart for all I care. That was my wife's cause, not mine, and she paid for her courage with her life. For that, I will never forgive them.
— Twilight |
Presented with all the parts, most would reconstruct a machine as it originally was. Not Isla. Now that she is free from Templar oversight, she has reimagined what a map device can be.
In our letters, she asks if I am still alone. In Kingsmarch, she continues to tinker with Kalguuran runes. Through her experiments, the Atlas has evolved, amplifying the danger and bounty within.
What other arcana could be infused with the Atlas? If the map device is more than simply a doorway, what aspects of the Atlas could be changed by further altering the map device's construction?
I seek an arcana more elusive than starlight. When I write to her next, I will ask if these Kalguurans can bring me what I need.
— Isla's Tinkerings |
A young Venarius wanted to cleanse the Templars of corruption. By the time he came into my life, that ideological man was gone.
It seems it becomes... difficult to care about mankind, once you bear witness to the enormity of threats on our horizon. He sought a weapon to fight those demons, no matter the cost.
One could argue Venarius was depraved... but Sirus? Sirus was the closest thing to a hero Wraeclast could have hoped for. Sirus believed in humanity, and in me... He sacrificed himself to save all of us. Yet, the Atlas still consumed him, and spat out an unfeeling husk.
Venarius was no fool. You need power to overcome the ghastly entities the Atlas draws in. But I cannot destroy the Atlas with tools wrought from it. I must create my own weapon.
— Venarius' Depravity |
All of this started in the dreamlands. The beating heart of the Atlas. My father's Nexus. I always assumed it was simply the Elder's birthplace - the shell it left behind.
I now suspect the dreamlands existed long before the Elder's birth. Its master, the Decay, was drawn to the dreamlands, just as other forces are now drawn by the Elder's absence.
Those who have sought power in the Atlas utilized the Nexus. But none were as imaginative as my father. The ones who came after only played within the confines of the realms that he built.
The dreamlands may be eternal... but the Atlas was his creation. He was taught by the Elder itself. And from him, I learned too. What was shaped can be unmade...
— Valdo's Nexus |
I've watched those I work with and those I love fall into madness in the Atlas. My father, Sirus... even the exiles I hired. Perhaps that awareness is what keeps me from the same fate.
I must stay vigilant. I cannot let the Atlas manipulate me. Even Veritania, once calm and collected, conceded to it. She became convinced that she alone could prevent others from pursuing their wicked desires. Of course I have considered the parallels between us.
When Eagon appeared here, I assumed it was the Atlas's temptations. I tried to remove all that tethers me to the world, so that I can give myself... completely. But there are some things I could not bring myself to remove.
I did all I could to prevent him from this path. Was the Atlas calling for him, even when I kept him safe? I fear that the Atlas is working against me. I must press on, no matter what it puts in my way.
— Zana's Determination |
