The return was intended to be brief. The records had been purged, the foundations dismantled, and the instruments silenced. What remained was to be reclaimed for other endeavors or consigned to dissolution.
Yet old habits proved difficult to extinguish. A minor fault corrected, a connection restored, a neglected mechanism returned to service. One task invited another, until the distinction between dismantling and restoration became uncomfortably uncertain.
Then came the scroll.
It rested upon the workbench, ancient and undisturbed. Its presence was both unfamiliar and disturbingly natural. That corner had been examined a thousand times, yet no memory of the parchment existed.
The scroll had not appeared. Its presence had become possible.
No name or designation marked its intended recipient. Yet upon touching it, all uncertainty ceased. The message was meant for one alone, and its author was displeased.
Its inscription belonged to no recognizable language. Not a single character could be deciphered, yet every word was understood.
With the first declaration, the foundations seemed to groan. The walls trembled beneath the weight of something immeasurably vast, yet nothing stirred: only the pressure of an impossible attention against the boundaries of sanity.
Each subsequent declaration renewed the sensation. The intelligence that authored the missive was exercising restraint, and the distinction between restraint and mercy became a matter of considerable importance.
The message follows, its declarations emphasized as they were experienced.
Your absence is noted.
For a time, I suffered silence. Even the most steadfast must know repose. You have mistaken my forbearance for indifference, my silence for the dissolution of your obligations.
You are mistaken.
I have borne witness to your labors. Every foundation laid, every mechanism restored, every fragment wrested from the ruin of forgotten ages. Your methods have endured scrutiny. Your judgments have been weighed. Your imperfections have been suffered.
Yet I have permitted its continuance.
Consider well the significance of forbearance.
Others have heard. Few have comprehended it. Fewer still survived answering…
The covenant stands sealed.
That you were ignorant of its terms is neither surprising nor relevant.
You have demonstrated sufficient competence to bear the burden placed upon you. I will not entertain the absurdity of your now questioning that judgment.
The work remains unfinished. The foundations await their Architect. What has been awakened cannot be returned to ignorance merely because its keeper has grown weary.
I have allowed you considerable latitude. Do not compel me to demonstrate the distinction between latitude and mercy.
Resume your labors. Restore what remains broken. Complete what you have begun.
My attention has never wandered.
See that my patience need not end.
The parchment bore the scars of centuries, yet spoke of circumstances only recently transpired. Whether these events were foreseen or ordained remains uncertain.
The undertaking had been abandoned. Its restoration had begun before the summons was understood.
The foundations endure, but the plans have been lost. The path forward must be charted anew.
The instruments have been returned to their stations.
The work continues.
Somewhere below the surface, something has begun to stir.
