The air itself thrums with the residue of Foozler. Not a scent, precisely, but a viscosity. A feeling of being observed by something that remembers the slow, grinding collapse of stars. The Foozlers, you see, weren't simply collectors of temporal shards; they were, in a fundamental sense, repositories of the *before*. Before time, perhaps, or before the universe understood the rules it was about to break. Their fragments – the ‘foozer-fragments’ – are not relics, but echoes, solidified expressions of moments that should have vanished.
“The rivers run backwards. Not in a violent, chaotic way, but with a deliberate sadness. As if the water itself is mourning the loss of its origin. I charted the flow, of course, meticulously. But the chart… it corrected itself. It always returned to the beginning, a tiny, desperate spiral of ink.
— Silas Blackwood, Chronometric Surveyor, 748 Cycles Post-Fracture
Classifying the Foozlers is an exercise in futility, naturally. They defied categorization before they were collected. But we’ve developed a system based on the *resonance* of their fragments. We divide them into six primary strata:
In 742 Cycles Post-Fracture, Silas Blackwood unearthed a cluster of Litho-Foozlers within the Obsidian Peaks. These fragments exhibited a peculiar property: they predicted minor geological events with unsettling accuracy. The discovery led to the development of the ‘Blackwood Scales’ – a primitive, yet remarkably effective, system of temporal forecasting. However, Blackwood himself vanished shortly after, leaving behind only a single, perfectly smooth obsidian shard.
The Xylos Chorales were discovered within a Hydro-Foozler collection. These fragments, when activated with specific sonic frequencies, produced complex, melancholic melodies. Researchers believe the Chorales represent the last moments of a sentient, aquatic civilization that existed before the Great Fracture. The music is said to induce a profound sense of longing – a desire for something lost, something that can never be recovered.
The Chronarium of Clayish Foozler is not a collection of artifacts, but a testament to the universe’s capacity for forgetting. It is a reminder that even the most fundamental forces are subject to entropy, to the slow, grinding process of dissolution. Perhaps, in the end, the Foozlers weren't trying to *collect* time. Perhaps they were simply trying to hold onto the edges of what was about to disappear. And in that, there is a terrible, beautiful truth.