Trinity

   Through the darkest secrets of magic I delve, the maddening depths therein I find things beyond what any mortal should know. That great black book made of entwined and woven shadows taunts me, taunts me with images unbelievable, that were I a lesser man I would think myself and my species special in the cosmos. Beyond the spirits, beyond the gods that are but larger versions of man, there one finds the unthinkable elder things, those bodies of interconnected tentacles and misshapen angles. It is not here where the black book stops, the book of human skin stops here, but not this book whose pages defy analysis by the greatest of man’s machines.

 

   Beyond the elder things, beyond those most alien of eldritch abominations, one finds in the dark pages men and women, familiar yet unknowable forms. Great and giant, small and petite, odd appendages like those far below them, features mistaken for clothes or armor by what my mind could fathom. Here they are, barely mentioned even in this most sacred and forgotten of tomes which holds the grandest spells and most ancient of rituals. Here I saw mention of the lineage of the trinity, those beings that begot man and man like things that haunt the universe and beyond, created in their image. For their vanity or some higher purpose I may never know. The trinity, three beings for whom the term ancient is like trying to describe the sun as a candle; and even then may be too little due to the limits of my own imagination.    

 

      Since reading this I have delved though other tomes, through the secrets of dozens of races, finding the hints, the ancient myths and legends of similarity, trying as I might to piece together these ancient beings, to catalogue who they are, what they are. Made not simple by the act of changing names and titles. Judge, Architect, Administrator, creator, arbitrator, destroyer, these terms may interchange between the three as the descriptions of numerous worlds shift them about. It is not unlike the mystery of earth where in each culture speaks of a storm god fighting a serpent, finding the common root if any is there can be maddening; and tasked I have of myself to piece together numerous tales of numerous worlds. Are they of my world too? Is Nyx one of them? The progenitor of Tiamat? Are they the unnamed layers of the cosmic egg? The parents of Izanagi and Izanami? So little spoken as ancient man deemed them beyond even their own gods; words of the gods spoken in hushed silence of the giant terrors that proceeded them by several generations.

 

   And here I tasked myself with researching the three oldest of their kind, perhaps the very origin of all humanoid life, if not life it’s self. What form or functions they take, changing small aspects of such capricious natures, I hold them now by only three names; the mother of unity, the mother of chaos, and the mother of entropy. Time, Death, Life, the very aspects of existence seem to be born from those born from them. Have I stared at these dark pages too long, need I put my words down in writing if only to prevent my own mind from trying to truly fathom beings that somehow predate the very concepts that allow a term like predate to even apply, who bore universes on whims, who take smaller forms and limit themselves on the same such whims?