Philosopher's Information Concerning Rai's Hand

The Writhing Chaos consumes.

The Writhing Chaos sees.

The Writhing Chaos speaks.

A glittering green thing, smooth jade, hanging on the neck of a man. The man spars with another man, practicing forms while standing over Arborea. The man stands in a jungle, untangling the chains of the dead. The man moves in a grove of trees, fighting aa witch. The jade lies in the desert, dry and dusty. The jade holds–

A glittering green thing, smooth jade, nestled around the neck of a woman. The woman sleeps and dreams and eats and prays in a place that is elsewhere and nowhere and ancient and new, a forest wrapped in nothingness. The woman is a man, standing in the northern reaches of Alcarinque. The woman is a man is a tree, a great tree, The Tree, and the jade is its heart. The jade grasps—

A glittering green thing, smooth jade, sitting in a lead box in a cabinet in a study. The study burns with brilliant light, filled with a lake of magic, the icy cold of the land held at bay by the magic in the stone. The study is a compound, a headquarters, a bloodline, a magic. The study is a man, holding the jade, fiery manacles around his legs, pleading, a man walking across mountains, a man speaking to deer, a man running and running back. The study is a man is a man is an eruption of power, held in check by equations and geometries of magic, standing in a village in a forest clearing, taking the jade. The jade breaks—

A glittering green thing, smooth jade, sparkling on the brow of a merfolk. The merfolk swims and takes and reaps. The merfolk gloats over the waves of the Elemental Sea, the echoes of Water Eternal. The merfolk commands; the jade resists but is overwhelmed. The merfolk is a merfolk at peace among kelp forests, singing to the jade, watching the light change through the vast undersea forests. The merfolk is a merfolk slaughtering, taking the jade. The jade cries—

A glittering green thing, smooth jade, lost beneath a vibrant jungle. The jungle is rotting and thriving, overgrown and barren, full of wonder and danger, vitality and death. The jungle is a vast landscape of rich villages and productive farms, the jungle is a desolation of choking air, the jungle is a battlefield, the jungle is Alcarinque. The jade is buried, quiet, not-yet-found, to-be-found. The jade seeks—

The jade is a hand. The hand grasps, imprisoning. The hand holds, silencing. The hand breaks, and breaks, and breaks, and breaks, and breaks. Souls cry and are consumed by the thing it held. The jade seeks to be whole.

The Writhing Chaos is silent.

The Writhing Chaos is finished.

The Writhing Chaos is asleep.