2nd Day of the Tale of Oliana, 898 AB
12th Day of the Tale of Fôlifi, 906 AB
Simon looked upon his canvas where already the Danse of Histories has begun to take shape, looking to his favorite, Sartova. As he twitches his fingers, hovering over the infinite seas of the Chronicle, masses of land began to morph and rise from the murky depths. The Storyteller smiled, as one of his forty-and-eight children tugged at his beard of floating chronocules.
All is His Story.
The Titan-Lord looked upon what his coarse hands has wrought upon the world, seeing the caked blood over the chapel of all those who trusted him, leading up to the Lords new seat and center of his Hold, suitable only to be a Throne of Wonder Why.
No victory is without loss.
The Elven Slave looked up at her Master, seeing the frail body of the other elf to be sacrificed, not knowing how her blood would be spilled to power a dark ritual. Horror struck her just as cruelly.
There is Dark in every Light.
The image-towers of the Tor, whilst flitting about the Temenos, became filled with an air of inspiration. A Tsoreva intones within all who See him(but do not Know him) "I Know a thing, and through telling, I shall create our own reality".
What is seen and what is real so often disagree.
High above the world, the gnomish creator was the first mortal to see a sunset while free from the confines of the mortal earth. Sunbeams glistening and refracting through the clouds in an infinitely complex dance which could captivate the most stoic sailor... distracting them from how the wilds they saw so small below them were filled with terrors and beasts.
There is Light in every Dark.
The God's Chronicle has all of these themes inside it, and more throughout it's settings and smaller stories of tragedy and loss, victory and triumph, terror and eldritch gods, and more. It is only up to the Observer to complete the Story, for what is a Story Untold?
Knowledge must be found - and to find a thing, it must be hidden.
These are the words of Simon, the Storyteller.