I. The Keeper & the Void
I bought a fish tank and filled it with many beloved fish. I gave them oxygen, water, food — the very foundations of life.
II. The Ancient One Manifests
It is so grotesque and twisted, bearing unspeakable writhing tentacles (referring to my curly hair), its patterns filthy and malevolent — legend holds that those who behold it are cast from this world (referring to my fingerprints; try grabbing a fish and having a look). It was born in darkness, and every time it manifests, boundless light erupts (I turn the lights off when I'm away; you turn them on when you come in). It writhes through infinite void, and all who enter its presence plunge into the abyss forever (meaning I don't swim on the floor, and fish that leap from the tank die rather pathetically). It is so grotesque and twisted, yet so merciful (meaning I look so incomprehensible to the fish, yet I tend to them day after day) — until one day, it sank to the ocean floor and fell into slumber, leaving behind three Seals of the Old God (I stepped out for a bit and placed three water quality monitors in the tank).
III. The World Collapses
And so endless black fog began to corrode the land, and monsters that only appear in fever dreams devoured all life (his grandmother, the tank algae bloomed — a few black fish fry snuck in when I added the fish, and the tank interpreted this as a Bobbit worm infiltration). The divine patron race harbored the monsters, yet secretly culled life in the shadows (those were herbivorous snails, with a few carnivorous ones mixed in). The order of the world began to collapse. (The tank crashed.)
IV. The Sun Returns
After battling the black fog and the servants of the dark god, the three Seals of the Old God were finally gathered, and the merciful twisted sun returned to the world (I heard the water quality monitor beeping while the tank was thrashing violently, so I put on a headlamp and peered in). The radiant sun suddenly sprouted endless writhing tentacles in all directions (obviously — that's my curly hair behind the lamp).
V. The Nature of Gods
That is the nature of Cthulhu mythology: the fish in the tank can never resist their keeper, and if the keeper slips up for a moment (forgets to turn on the oxygen), the world is destroyed. Yet the destruction of the world cannot touch those ancient gods writhing through the void (I don't live in the fish tank, after all).
The Old Ones are immortal. Some species, in hopes of earning their favor, devoted their entire lineage to serve as their chosen kin (true — the small fish and shrimp in the tank breed several generations a year, and I simply prefer the prettier ones).
Think about it that way — doesn't it all make a lot more sense? Humanity, too, is an ancient god. Humanity, too, has its own ancient gods. One day, when the fish tank develops a laser cannon, even the Old Ones will have reason to retreat.
VI. Divine Punishment
But retreat where, exactly — I just dumped two bags of salt in, bringing divine punishment down upon these blasphemers.
On that day, countless white crystals fell from the sky, dissolving swiftly into the void. The air turned foul and scorched the throats of mortals. The brave fled toward the horizon to escape the calamity, only to be blinded, falling in agony. Those nearby writhed in suffering and became cold, lifeless husks. The corruption closed in on me. I knew there was no escape. With trembling hands, I set down these words, so that future generations may know: this is the fate of those who lose their faith and defy the divine. May the immortal gods forgive us.
— Excerpted from the final passage of The Dead Water Codex.
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