Part 1[]
Father,
I completed the journey a week ago, but, as you have asked of me, I have not written to you until I have found something of worth.
I know that you have long thought on a language that is older than any that we have seen prior to the Cataclysm, and I believe I have found it for you. Six scrolls, held bound in ancient leather and bronze, had thin sheets of hammered brass in between the leaves. The lettering upon them was faded red and limned in places with gold ink that flaked off before our eyes. The scrolls were recovered from the lake near Tursh here in the west.
I had the copyist reproduce the fragments so we can both begin our study. I am sending you the originals as I write this. I look forward to your letter with your thoughts on translation.
Your faithful son.
Part 2[]
Father,
We’ve made progress on the scrolls here. I am concerned that I have not heard from you, but I work on, knowing that you will contact me when you will. We have begun identifying the vowels. Luckily, this language seems to be much like our own. Scrys into the weft of these words has given us some knowledge of the thoughts of the writer. Alchemical work has told us more of the age of these scrolls. Ancient does not begin to explain the age of this script, which I am calling Precursor.
It is certainly an alphabet, which means this is not the oldest writing that can be. We know the picture writing we have found is much older. That said, this Precursor script very well could be the origin of the script we use today. We call this alphabet “Alefbasah,” after the likely sounds of the first three letters.
Language back then was similar to our language now. We have diverged and come together. I think we will soon be able to read these ancient words.
Your faithful son.
Part 3[]
Father,
Something eludes us, and someone – or something – has taken an interest in our work here. We stare bloodshot at these papers, and a voice seems to taunt us to find their secrets. We have used magic again to divine some of the letters, but they swim before our eyes when we try to think about their meaning. I understand the ancient words – but a force from without seems to sand my thoughts down to nothing when I think on them.
The people here are beginning to look at us askance. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, the people laugh, but all quiets when I go outside to see the day.
Surely you have encountered such things in your travels, father. Will you not send a word to your son to comfort him?
Your faithful son
Part 4[]
Father,
I had a dream of someone speaking in tongues. It spoke in rhythm to my heartbeat, reciting the Alefbasah. It spoke, “Alef, bah, sah” and I saw a boy, no older than a dozen years, holding a writing stick covered in ink. I heard more words, “deef, ee, fa…” and my dreams beheld a comet-filled sky. “Gell, ha, ai…” and I saw a man ten feet tall sweep aside warriors with little thought. “Jah, klef, lahn…” and the comet crashed to the earth. “Miin, noon, oh...” misshapen men walked from the crater. “Pa, qaaf, ra, seef…” and my eyes were blinded with fire. “Ta, oon, vef, waw, kha, yosh, zeef…” I awoke.
I fear to sleep again. Why do you not write?
Your faithful son
Part 5[]
Father,
A messenger has acknowledged you are receiving my letters, but you are allowing no one else to speak with you. I can do nothing now but trust you are doing what you feel is right. I continue to send you the originals of these scrolls, and only hope you will write me when you can.
I am still having dreams… dark and wonderful dreams like the one in my last letter. I see a bright shield, like the symbol of a number eight, and a spear that shines golden in the sun. The man who holds it, Menjammel, is hearing whispers. Dark whispers. The other man, Betkammis, hears those whispers too. I think maybe if I listen, I too can hear those whispers…
I cannot abide not hearing your thoughts on our work! I almost seek to leave this place and go home again. I am compelled, however, as you know I would be. We will not rest until these words from our forefathers are revealed.
Your faithful son
Part 6[]
Father,
This is the final scroll, and my final letter to you from this place. Words fail me as I contemplate my fears for your safety, and thus I have decided to defy your wishes and go to you tomorrow in New Targonor. The people here look at us strangely, and I know that they have sent riders to the King in New Targonor to have you investigated and the scrolls I have sent to you taken. I can only think that you had somehow foreseen this, and yet I will no longer sit here and wait upon your words.
I think of your safety as I send my most trusted friend to find you and deliver this last original of the Precursors who worked bronze.
Your faithful son
