The Revelation of Lyrus Maskivian, the Deathless Prince, General of
the Askkalan Armies (Ch. IV, § xxiii); recovered from the ruins of the
Black Citadel in the year —.
In the riotous swathe I cut
through the centuries, I sought always to unite the exudations of the
beauty of love and war. And I succeeded. Though lesser men—men who dare
not utter my name even now—have called me a madman, a butcher, all the
permutations of malevolence, the very awe and terror that will perfuse
through them once they know the true magnificence of what I have reached
will at last and forever stain history with the quintessence of this
grand conception, of this Art Revealed. The weak-willed worms cannot
even begin the attempt of opening their insignificant minds to imbibe
this most secret and enrapturing knowledge. Mountains of life-despoiled
bodies I have piled, nightmarish landscapes I have trodden, entire nations I have burnt to ashes and one woman I have loved to the extreme; all to
learn that in reeling horror and burning love there lie things that are
crystal reflections of each other. They are, quite simply, the
manifestations of what repels ordinary men and what ordinary men feign
and pretend to understand. They reside at the threshold between
sanity and madness, where very few are able to remain wilfully. They are
the warmth that radiates within when one encases and seals his heart
for just one other, never again for it to be unlocked. They are the
purest art, revealed to an individual only during the very rarest of
experiences, experiences of masterful devilry and uncompromising
adoration, experiences that I have dared, in my audacity, to live.
M.M. — Ianuarius MMX
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