The name Myrtilus is rarely spoken aloud, a whisper carried on the currents of the Obsidian Shore. It is a name synonymous with obsession, with meticulous observation, and with a singular, driving purpose: to map not the physical world, but the echoes of forgotten moments.
He was not born a cartographer, not initially. He was a craftsman, a sculptor of obsidian, renowned for his ability to capture the fleeting intensity of emotion in stone. But a tragedy – the disappearance of his younger sister, Lyra – shattered his world. The authorities declared her lost to the tides, but Myrtilus refused to accept it. He began to collect fragments, not of stone, but of memory. He sought to understand the circumstances of her vanishing, believing that within the residual energies of the past, a trail might be found.
“The air thrummed with an almost tangible sadness. I ventured into the ruins of Old Veridia, a coastal city swallowed by the sea centuries ago. The stones themselves seemed to weep. I used a modified version of my sculpting tools – attuned to vibrational frequencies – to detect… disturbances. Not seismic, precisely, but something far stranger. I recorded a persistent, low-level resonance centered on a crumbling shrine dedicated to the Sea Mother. It was faint, incredibly so, but it was there. I hypothesize that Lyra’s disappearance is linked to a convergence of temporal eddies. The shrine acted as a nexus, a point where the veil between moments thinned. I’ve begun constructing a device – the Resonator – to amplify these disturbances.”
“I’ve discovered a network of subterranean tunnels beneath the ruins of Veridia. They’re not natural formations; they resonate with the same chaotic energy I detected at the shrine. The tunnels are filled with intricate carvings – not of gods or heroes, but of faces. Faces frozen in expressions of profound, unsettling serenity. I believe these are echoes of those who were trapped within the temporal eddies. I encountered a… presence. A shimmering silhouette that seemed to shift and distort, attempting to communicate. It offered me a ‘key’ – a small, polished obsidian shard – claiming it would ‘unlock’ the past. I declined. The energy was overwhelmingly corrupting. I’ve named this place the Weaver’s Labyrinth, for it feels like a tapestry of lost lives.”
“The Resonator is functioning, albeit imperfectly. I’ve managed to isolate a specific moment – the night Lyra vanished. The image is fragmented, blurry, but I saw her. She was standing near the shoreline, bathed in an unnatural luminescence. Behind her, a figure – tall, shrouded, with eyes that burned like molten gold. It reached out… and then, nothing. The Resonator isn’t just recording echoes; it’s projecting them, albeit fleetingly. I’ve witnessed countless possibilities – alternate realities where Lyra returns, where the figure is revealed as a benevolent guardian, where she is consumed by the temporal currents. The potential for manipulation is terrifying. I’ve implemented safeguards, but I fear it’s only a matter of time before I’m overwhelmed.”
“I’ve identified the figure. It’s not a demon, not a god, but a… chronomancer. An individual who, like myself, seeks to manipulate the flow of time. He – or she – is attempting to prevent a catastrophic event, an 'unraveling' that threatens to erase all of reality. He believes Lyra’s disappearance was not an accident, but a deliberate act – a sacrifice to stabilize the temporal currents. He’s attempting to rebuild the event, to force Lyra back into existence. I’m engaged in a battle of resonance, attempting to counteract his efforts. The energy is tearing at me, threatening to unravel my mind. I’m losing… but I won’t surrender. For Lyra. For the echoes of the past. I’ve begun constructing a counter-resonance, a ‘temporal anchor’ to prevent the unraveling. It’s a desperate gamble, but it’s all that remains.”
Footnote 1: The Obsidian Shore is a region perpetually shrouded in mist, known for its volcanic origins and unusual geological phenomena.
Footnote 2: Chronomancy is the manipulation of time, a dangerous and unstable practice.