The genesis of keratoglobus remains shrouded in a haze of speculation and, frankly, unsettling observation. It wasn't discovered in the typical dermatological clinics, nor in the bustling marketplaces of the coastal cities. Instead, it began to surface – quite literally – within the Obsidian Depths, a subterranean network of caves beneath the city of Veridium. Veridium, you see, was built upon an ancient nexus of geothermal activity, and the Depths pulsed with a strange, viscous fluid – known locally as ‘The Weaver’ – which seemed to possess an almost sentient quality.
Early explorers, mostly prospectors seeking rare crystalline formations, reported experiencing a profound disorientation, a feeling of being drawn towards the surface. Those who ventured too deep began to exhibit signs of thickened, abnormally smooth skin, initially dismissed as a consequence of prolonged exposure to the Weaver. But the reports persisted, growing increasingly alarming. Dr. Silas Blackwood, a cartographer and amateur mycologist, was the first to formally document the phenomenon, meticulously sketching the evolving surface patterns.
“The skin, Blackwood noted, ‘shifts like liquid mercury under pressure, growing in areas of tension and smoothing where undisturbed.’
It’s hypothesized that the Weaver isn’t merely a byproduct of the geothermal activity, but an active agent in the development of keratoglobus. The Weaver possesses a unique molecular structure – composed primarily of complex polysaccharides and trace elements – that interacts with the keratinocytes of the skin. This interaction appears to trigger a cascade of cellular changes, accelerating the rate of epidermal cell turnover and fundamentally altering the skin’s structural integrity.
A particularly unsettling theory, championed by the eccentric Professor Armitage Finch, posits that the Weaver isn’t just *affecting* the skin, but *communicating* with it. Finch argued that the shifting patterns observed in keratoglobus are, in fact, a form of rudimentary ‘skin language,’ a desperate attempt by the body to adapt to the Weaver’s influence. “The skin,” he declared, “is not merely deformed, it is *learning*.”
Further complicating the matter is the discovery of microscopic, crystalline structures embedded within the keratoglobus tissue. These structures, dubbed ‘Echo Crystals’ by the research team, exhibit a strange resonance with the Weaver’s fluid, suggesting a deeper, more intricate connection.
Initial Reports – Isolated cases emerge in Veridium’s mining communities. Symptoms: Thickening of the epidermis, primarily affecting the palms and soles. Marked by a pearly sheen.
Expansion – The phenomenon spreads to the city’s artisan guilds. The ‘pearlescent sheen’ intensifies, accompanied by a heightened sensitivity to pressure. The skin begins to exhibit a distinct, undulating texture.
The ‘Flow State’ – The most advanced stage of keratoglobus. The skin becomes remarkably smooth and resilient, almost unnaturally so. Individuals in this state exhibit increased tactile sensitivity and, unsettlingly, a reported ‘sense of connection’ to the surrounding environment. Blackwood’s notes from this period are riddled with frantic observations about shifting patterns and a 'growing awareness'.
Despite decades of research, the precise mechanisms underlying keratoglobus remain elusive. The ‘Echo Crystals’ continue to baffle scientists, and the full extent of the Weaver’s influence is still largely unknown. The current hypothesis – championed by the ‘Veridium Institute of Adaptive Biology’ – centers around a complex feedback loop between the Weaver, the skin, and the individual’s nervous system.
However, a more unsettling question persists: Is keratoglobus merely a symptom of a deeper, more profound transformation? Are we, perhaps, on the cusp of a new stage in human evolution, a stage dictated by the strange, shifting surface of the skin?