The following is a translation of passages from the Mysterium Eschatonica, provided to us by the Pious Ward in the Free City of Delve:

"Providence came in the wake of war,
the essential two begetting necessary four."

In the very beginning, the Eschaton looked upon the roiling chaos, His mere attention demanding order from its imperishable anarchy.

Brilliant light emerged at His behest, empty darkness birthed in the same breath as its eternal opposition. Wrought by His will, these forces served as positive and negative, fundamental constructs forever destined for mutual enmity. The Helm worked these primordial looms at the Eschaton's command, the fabric of the cosmos arranged into an existential tapestry.

From this calamitous convergence of dark and light, the Eschaton drew forth four other aspects of His design. With a steady hand, He positioned them within the cosmos, their conjunction ensured by the precision of His perfect placement. Searing heat, raging wind, solid earth, and crashing wave conspired there at the center of this heavenly arrangement, constituting between them an illuminated world of purest possibility.


"The Eschaton gazed upon an illuminated realm,
and four more pillars rose by the toil of His Helm."

The Eschaton looked out upon a realm raw with the bestowment of His gift, radiant with energy it could not contain. Bathed by utter divinity, the land strained to exceed His expectation, but its blinding illumination denied it form, definition, and constancy in plentiful enough manner. Only purest brilliance reflected upon the vivid landscape wrought by Eschatonic exertion, and thus the Helm laboured in His stead to part the effulgent mists that were its shroud.

By Their threefold toil, the world came to know its shape and understand the truth of its own face. The radiant mists withdrew, leaving behind valleys, rivers, mountains, and glades. Together, They ensured that the world teemed with life and came to experience His gifts. In so doing, mortalkind came to know Him for the enigmatic miracle that is His design, eight crucial pillars holding reality aloft so that they might know peace and prosperity.

To know Him and His Creation is to know that He is at the end of every path, at the bottom of every mystery. He is the Eschaton and He is the everything that existed within nothing, Who bent its limitless chaos into ordered borders. He is all phases of His watchful moon and thus to gaze upon it at any moment is to look into His own eye, and to give praise beneath it at any moment is to let Him hear your words. Within one hand does He spool boundless brilliance and within His other does He gather tenebrous darkness, their eternal interplay responsible for all else to come after. Give praise unto Him for Creation's constant motion, for He is at the heart of all that was, all that is, and all that shall be until even He is the end in truth.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 22nd of Chakros, in the year 511 MA.