_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

In an office room that was simple yet luxurious.

Books, tables, quills, ink vials, booklets, and plain white sheets filled the room lit by chandeliers and scented candles that adorned the branched candle holders.

For short, the room gave off an aura of being a

Which was also the name given to the room, by its owner;

Eadwulf Woottone: The Dragon Of Knowledge.

He was sitting studiously gazing down at the messy stacks of plain white sheets filled with eccentric drawings and shapes of circles with extremely intricate patterns. They were his research on a magic spell which seemed complete yet incomplete at the same time.

The end result of the spell was already in his mind, but he couldn't exactly bring out how the process of the conditions required to give birth to the spell.

Tomb Of Knowledge