The Hub

The monolith tower of Ivory darkness holds the truth behind everything. Behind its ancient walls of obsidian lies treasures and knowledge beyond the imagination. Deep within the catacombs of lost, lies the secrets to time itself.

Yet the intrigue it contains has already been touched by another. The ancient knowledge imparted on others circulated with those close. The expanding power of darkness and oblivion sought out by those that crave it. There is only madness amongst its secrets.

Cloistered deep within its womb lies a being. An enigma. An idea. A fantasy. A truth.

Those that covet it know it not. Those that know it wants it all the more. The want will be the ending of everything. The undoing of the very base they built themselves upon.

And yet, none cared. Perhaps have yet to care. Some suggest otherwise, but natural curiosity makes it into an untruth. With the grasp of limitations so close and yet so far, the envelope is pushed only by the worthy. Yet the fruit that they bare from the labor and blood they yield is relished by everyone.

Such is progression. Tears and blood flow the same and mix just as well. Martyrs of truth and justice and Maniacs of progress and future. Titles placed on those who would rather have none.

If the monolith had eyes, it would've been able to see both together as if nothing was ever wrong for years. It would've seen every little thing shift and change the more Martyrs and Maniacs appeared. It would've seen the moment that the collapse was imminent.

But the monolith has no eyes. And even with no eyes, it holds no mouth to speak out with. No cords for voice, no mind for such concepts such as good and evil. It is a tower of ivory obsidian bleakness with no other purpose than the one assigned to it. To stand, hold, and never waiver.

The creatures of this bleak world refuse to let something as beautiful as it goes untouched. Even after the initial arrived and left, more commenced to come.

They endeavor to uncover what's within its catacombs. They wish to find the womb and break free whatever inside. This overdue birth does not need to be free, but they consider themselves heroes. Therefore, their actions are just in the eyes of those who amass together.

So the bleakness attempts to stop them. They send forth messengers, creatures of mass destruction, and even ideas. The only ones to gain purchase were the concepts implanted into the foresight of every creation. As they divided themselves into cliques, they had no idea seeds were being planted underneath them.

When the time came, the sprouts found their way into those that mattered. Those sprouts grew and planted their own. It remained unnoticed for so long until the outliers noticed. The ones who couldn't prosper from the fruits bared called the ideas spreading about heresy. They deemed them against the norm and should be cast out.

Thus many of the "artifacts" the creatures talked about became to be. Forests grew in a world where there weren't meant to be any. A war between creation and bleakness began when bleakness was all there was ever supposed to be. The world continues to spin outside of everything, so the plan first formulated was never cast aside. It was only changed to fit the theme.

Thus the heroes have come. They now stand before the mighty doors to the future. The truth they wish to find hidden deep within. The world they once knew is gone. Ravaged by fighting and cliques trying to lay a claim to the land.

What they find will be the end.