A madman puts to parchment the doom of all creation. His black book records a grim history, of grand efforts gone awry and a future that can no longer be stopped. The Truth of which he writes would make cowards of the brave, drive sanity from the wise, and kill the souls of the faithful. All their hopes it would reveal for desperate lies.
The black book tells of the Uncrowned King and the Murkborn Witch. By their sacrifice will a noble kingdom rise. The Mad Count casts eternity aside, and the Woman Made of Steel brings justice against her hated foe. All are mentioned, but only to say that each is a pawn. They move by the wills of nightmares given form, in the fathomless abyss. Such is the Truth of the book.
Blasphemies beyond imagining flow from the pen of the scribe, but even he is ignorant of the Truth he lays down. Every passage comes unbidden from a great and tortured beast, feasting upon its own flesh and starving through ages beyond count. For eons it has known only hunger and agony…
… and terrible, fearful Truth.