By Eric Kao
Entry 1
Dear diary,
Eek! So excited! The king, THE KING!!!
Deep breaths, okay, let me start over.
It’s been a while, old friend! I have such exciting news regarding a potion the king, himself, has enlisted me to work on! I have been bequeathed as many magical resources as I want and as many test subjects I desire.
Preliminary results have been okay, only the first two died (with such interesting screams), while the other ones are merely in what appears to be a deep sleep. But I get ahead of myself!
What has it been, twenty years since I last wrote in you? Flipping these yellowed and tear-stained pages, I see the fuel that drove me to become the arch-vizier. No one laughs at me now! Okay, okay, yes, I’ll admit… maybe the first two subjects were old “friends”. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll light you on fire while you sleep, too!
No, of course, I only jest. Their life forces will go toward excellent use. With their, ahem, sacrifices—involuntary as they were—I should have all the magical power I’ll need for a while.
To wit, my mission!
The king, haha THE KING!!!, has had trouble sleeping. His nights on the battlefields, well, he says the memory of the screams keep him up, poor thing. A good night’s sleep, is that so much to ask?
“No, no, your majesty!” I said. “It would be my girthiest honor.”
And it is. I shall dedicate my life to perfecting a sleep potion for the king. I shall not rest until HE does.
Though it is hard to do any good work with my eyes so blurry.
Maybe just a few min—BY THE TERRORS!
Oh, diary, I just had an amazing thought! I’ll jot it here while it’s fresh: drain essence
***
Reminders: confiscate subjects’ diaries. Do others use lots of exclamation points or is it just me?!
Entry 2
Dear diary,
The experiments are coming along. As I alluded to last week, I had an idea. The results have been… troubling.
It started with a spark, an idea, an ingenuity. What makes us sleep? Why, being tired, of course!
And when are we tired? I’m so glad you asked. You’re always such a good companion. Not like the others… but never mind them. They’re resting now, hahaha!
No, no, don’t chide me. Their deaths serve a greater purpose—to help the king himself.
Let me write my thoughts, that always helps me smooth out my thinking.
I made a potion that drained life essence. And it worked! By the Terrors, it did!
The first subject, my sweet Gerald, soon looked as beautiful as when chained next to me after a long session on the Void Plane.
Alas, he never woke.
Weakening the potion has been tricky. Even though I’ve gotten it to the point of inducing a reversible sleep, there are problems. If the subject is forcibly awakened, which often requires quite a great deal of physical trauma—the mess!—they are exhausted.
And those who sleep the whole time are worse, amazingly.
I fear that by draining their strength, it seems their life force is permanently damaged.
Oh, but the king was pleased!
By my brilliant suggestion—High Terrors forgive my self-congratuations, haha!—our dissident prisoners were drowned in my new amazing potion. Not to death, of course, wouldn’t that be a waste?
Once their wills—weak already no doubt—broke, they drank of my fount. A few healthy gulps and a deep, deep sleep later and voila! True, they are weakened, but they make a fine frontline. Too addled to know the fear of charging to their deaths.
Interestingly, it has been my observation that when they are near death, they too emit the animalistic screams, like those who had the stronger potion and my sweet Gerald.
I wonder why?
***
Reminders: send something to Gerald’s family. I hear the bread from The Baker’s Cyst has a surprise filling.
Entry 3
Oh, oh, diary!
What an idea I’ve had. The High Terrors themselves visited me last night, I’m sure. Even still, my throat burns from the screaming. Such visions I must have had in my sleep, though they slip away from me like sloughed skin.
Closer. Even adrift in inspirational high, I am cautious. This idea is likely only a step closer.
But I’m getting closer.
Yes, I must separate them. Rip them apart if needed.
I’m off!
***
Reminders: apothecary for leg cream. Should the skin be so red??
Ask a different apothecary: leg cream works on other more sensitive areas, just the same, right?
Entry 4
Hmm, diary, hmm.
Excuse my shaking penmanship, I am still trembling.
As always, I write these thoughts—inked in fresh blood—to sift through and find my path. It is calming to me and I need calm.
It had occurred to me, after my night of most exalted terror, that the mind and body are indeed separate. And wrenching them apart would force the body to rest.
I assumed there’d be difficulty funneling the mind back into the body.
I didn’t expect… that.
Separating the mind from the body was easy. Surprisingly so. As I write this, bitterness fills my mouth.
I get an image of prying a cork from a bottle. I’d predicted a struggle. Twisting and wrenching, loosening and coaxing. Until, at last, the cork pops free.
It was not like that.
Not at all.
The merest sip of dissociation potion caused the subject’s consciousness to… it was almost like a projectile. As if something else, something within, were shoving it from… From the other side?
I’m back now. After writing these thoughts, I couldn’t help but feel so foolish. The other side? What utter nonsense!
That foolish priest who’s been protesting my research has gotten in my head. All his talk of awakening the High Terr—but no, I won’t even indulge him by writing his pseudo-magical theories down.
Yes, yes, it’s coming to me.
After I separated the subject’s consciousness, he devolved to the same animalistic state I’ve seen in the others. But instead of screaming and thrashing, he retained control of his faculties. Or rather, enough control.
I’ve never seen a man tear another apart with only their bare hands.
Hmm, bear hands?
An idea for another time. I must perfect sleep first! Haha, I get ahead of myself as always, but I can’t help it! My mind is always whirling—it is a blessing of the High Terrors (though, I confess I don’t really believe in them).
Yes: sleep first, then bear hands. The king will be so pleased!
So the subject retained his base animal instincts. Perhaps my potion merely removed his humanity?
Interesting, but clearly I must go deeper.
***
Reminders: get new robes. Garn’s seemed to be taken in at the waist, giving him a pleasing silhouette. Ask him what tailor he uses.
[RECOVERED]
Country is in ruins. Few survivors.
It seems this journal belonged to the source of the outbreak.
Everyone dead—and for what? He was trying to make a potion so that tyrant could sleep?
From everything I’ve seen and the entries in this journal, I think I finally understand.
I saw my entire village killed. My family ripping each other apart…
The vizier wanted to remove consciousness, well, he did it. And the damn fool even knew.
He knew something else was on the other side.
And he still did it.
He was trying to put them to sleep?
Well, he woke something up instead.
With people’s “humanity” gone, something else took over. What was he always referring to?
The High Terrors.
Yeah, sounds about right.
Well, now everyone is gone and—
Something’s here.
Entry 5
Hello Diary,
I’m not sure I’m doing this right! Never written in a diary before, never written anything before!
I guess I’m what the humans referred to as ‘a High Terror’.
Do I enjoy killing humans?
I mean, does the Pain Lord shit in the Chaos Realm?
Obviously!
We all do.
My friend Melowrath claims he was the first one to do it, but there’s no way that’s true, right?
I guess I wish I could come up with something really cool like that, too. And then everyone would say, wow, there’s so much more to him than claws made of toxic flames.
And maybe Bezorin would finally see me as more than just a fiend?
Oh, there’s even still some of the sleep potion left!
Agh, banana-flavored—Divine Terrors take me! (Not that I actually believe in the Divine Terrors).
OoOoOoOo. I feel it taking effect! Haha, no, just joking. Oooh, hope nothing is awakening in me.
Can’t believe something this weak is what destroyed humanity.
Hahahahaha
OH SHI—
***
Reminders: bear hands? Kinda genius, actually…!
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