First Testament of Hector

There are alive today only a few souls that recall when Atlantis herself sank beneath the frosted waves of the ocean. Of those few, even less of us remember the True Name of that place.

I shall not utter it, even exclusively in the mighty company of the others, even less would I put it to paper. Surprised? For what is a name but a name, you say?

In my long existence, I have seen the death of many cities (for want of a better term, since modern humanity lacks the words to express how much more than a mere settlement these holy places were to their citizens).

When Sodom and Gomorrah were taken by the Black Glass (a most evil apparatus), I was there. I witnessed the horrifying slowness of people, outside the Glass gaze itself, turning to salt, and I heard the sounds bones make as the marrow inside transmogrifies (and the ghastly cries of those cursed with being alive as this happens).

When Babel fell to the ear-bursting screams of the infidels it housed, I was there. I bore witness to the shriek of the mutilated beasts (they were not human) more concerned with their loss of the Tongues than the terrible effects of razor-edged, burning masonry penetrating their naked hides.

When the streets of Horkarth flooded in the ropes of saliva dripping from Leviathan's maw before His rubbery lips closed upon her walls, I was there. I heard the sizzling sound flesh made as it turned to a soup in the vile mixture of His digestive juices.

I was there, oh… a hundred times? A thousand? From these most terrible and ancient horrors to hordes, fires, floods ("such mundane stuff!" another of my kin scoffed as we spoke on a trans-Atlantic flight)...

I was there, each time a… a city that was to last 1,000 years, eternity to most souls, died. Drawn always to places of knowledge, power… I was there.

Know this. At times as I have described (and many others also; I am human!) I have known such strength of terror that I have been insane, a gibbering wreck at what I am cursed to experience. And these times- Sodom, Gomorrah, Babel and Horkarth foremost in my memory right now, but oh so many others… were of little impact compared to how it felt to see Atlantis go beneath the waves.

But do not think me… unfeeling. I look now, (as I dictate this account to a Lemure) out the window of my hotel at Hell's Kitchen, busy as a hive of bees even at this strange hour.

Until the 20th Century (at least the 20th that modern humanity is beholden to count from, for by my reckoning the centuries cannot be counted by mortal minds without going quite mad in the futility), I have not seen a city such as this (New York now, but San Francisco, Los Angeles…) that stretches as far as the eye can see, even unto the scope of an aeronaut.

In such sprawl, amongst such crowds, even I sometimes flirt with the notion that such a place could exist for as long as we do (all of us).

But alas, is the terrible fate of all living things to die, cities included.

All living things… except for things like me.

Of Atlantis, though, I may speak more of her demise at another strange hour, when another strange fancy overcomes me to speak of it.

But it's the True Name you shall never hear from me. For to know a True Name is to invite it, and that may doom us all.

Now, away with you, Lemure-