The following text is an excerpt from a book found by two urban explorers as they were exploring the remains of an old, long abandoned house.
The book was found in a severely damaged state with many of its pages either lost or unreadable including the title and the name of the writer.
Both the house and the book have since been destroyed though the translations of the contents still exist, this being one of them.

I pray, day and night, that this writing of mine, this final report finds its way into hands capable of undoing what unspeakable things my colleagues and I have done over the years.
But lets not get ahead of ourselves, let us first start where it all began so long ago.
I was a young man living in a town where I was both born and raised, a simple farmers community with no more than seven families spread across seven farms.
It lay quite out of the way, the closest city being at least a 15 minute trip on horse back, and near a large pine forest that had been there far longer than that simple settlement.
One day an unknown young man dressed in dirty, old rags and an unhealthy hue surrounding him came to the village.
He had nothing with him except for the clothes on his body and a long, black walking stick he held in his right hand and was therefore presumed to be a homeless man, one of many on their unending travels across the land looking for shelter, food and other such necessities.
To our surprise we later found out that the man did have a home, one very close to the village for it stood deep within the forest that lay so very close to the farms.
Nobody had excepted that house to ever be sold for not only was it in a far advanced state of decay as only the very core of the house stood upright but mostly because of the stories, the rumours that circulated concerning the house.
There were many stories known among the towns folk, most of which I have long since forgotten with the exception of two.
One was about a little boy who had apparently been lured into the house by a mysterious voice.
When he returned a day later his eyes were as black as his previously white flesh that hung off of his arms almost as if it were torn off by some wild animal.
The second tale was about a young girl who too had visited the house, though many years before the young boy.
It was said she were a witch who had made a deal with the devil, supposedly living in that house, and that one could hear her whisper to passers by around midnight trying to lure them inside.
A witch with black eyes and a decaying body.
To any ordinary person these two tales would sound like just another set of scary stories, one clearly originating from the other, that were conjured up one day to keep children from venturing into the woods and getting lost.
In reality though, these two stories were the basis for something initially brave, well intended even, but so very wrong.
Inexcusably wrong.
The man, whom I will refer to as Aldri for I fear his true name even to this day, had bought the home exactly for these stories as he saw their importance where no one else did.
We heard nor saw anything of him in the following months except during his occasional trips to town for supplies such as food, water and interestingly enough, candles, while wearing a long, dark robe that hid his face and body.
One of those days, on his way to buy supplies, I ran into him, purely by chance or so I like to think.
I ran into him and noticed a large, black book fall to the ground.
It looked very old with its leather-bound exterior and ancient looking engravings, a circle surrounded by three signs in a language I did not understand.
It took me a while to notice he had been looking at me as I had been looking at the book.
What he saw in me that day I still don’t fully understand, perhaps he recognised my curiosity or even my lust for knowledge hidden deep within me as he asked me a question, the answer to which I regret to this very day.

“Do you wish to know what it means?” He asked me with a strange glimmer in his eyes.

I said yes and he told me to come by his home at midnight later that day.
To be honest, I did doubt whether or not I would go for even if I did not believe in the stories surrounding the house they still filled me with a strange sort of dread, a warning perhaps?
I did go however, at midnight and packed with a large knife, just in case.
When I arrived Aldri stood before the small, wooden front door waiting for me.
He shook my hand and asked me to join him inside as he walked into the darkness that lay behind him.
I again doubted whether or not to listen to him for I saw two startling features that I had not seen on him before, black eyes and decaying skin, and even though it did cause me great discomfort I never did turn around but followed him inside, into the black.
The first thing, and only one of two things I saw, was a large pool in the centre of what should’ve been the living room filled with a liquid darker than even the night itself.
The pool was perfectly round, eerily so, cutting straight through the wooden floor that lay underneath our feet.
Three large, red candles stood around it at equal intervals giving off just enough light to make out where the borders lay so one would not accidentally fall into the strange liquid.
What it is I still do not know but Aldri referred to it as ‘Obscurum,’ though it was known by many names even if none were quite as fitting as this one for I believe not even Aldri knew exactly what it was.
What he did know was how to use it, which for him was more than enough.
I will not go into the exact details of the ritual necessary in order to use the Obscurum but it ended with one specific step, drinking the Obscurum from a crystal chalice.
What it did?
Two things.
The first being decay on the part of who ever drank the Obscurum.
This is the price one pays, loss of body and soul, loss of flesh and mind in return for power, the second aspect, which it gave a plenty.
Power in any and all forms, whether it be something more earthly such as physical strength or charisma or something more supernatural such as what the locals would’ve called magic.
The first time I saw Aldri consume the fluid I stood utterly amazed at what he could do.
How that young man with a fragile body could lift more than I could’ve ever imagined.
How he could do things I could once only dream of.
How he used and abused matter and power at a whim, like it was nothing.
It was not long before I too indulged in the pool of Obscurum, that endless, black void.
I would consume many glasses of the dark, nauseating liquid continuously increasing my power to match that of Aldri.
Together we drank, we studied and experimented but, as we consumed more and more, we began to face the consequences of our gluttony, our thirst for power, with every sip.
Our flesh began to rot and fall off of our bones.
Our muscles began to weaken and tear.
Our sanity began to dwindle.
Our eyes became black like the pool we could no longer live without.
Both of us knew we could not go on much longer or death would follow swift.
For months we thought, we reasoned and pondered while our bodies grew weaker and our minds faded.
It was on suggestion of Aldri that we went out and recruit another individual, someone to pass our knowledge to before we would inevitably pass.
We went out during the night, cloaked to hide our decaying bodies, and searched for a person to join us.
All we approached either fled on the sight of our dark, mysterious robes or uncomfortably declined our requests, all but one.
We managed to convince a solitary drunk to come with us.
We returned home where the ritual was performed, though the man seemed oblivious as to what was happening.
It took not long before he lost his consciousness, intoxicated by whatever he had drunk that night, and fell into the Obscurum that lay before him.
With all our strength we dragged him out, fearful that he might contaminate the pool.
When we had dragged his body out and onto the wooden floor we noticed something peculiar.
His flesh had become pitch black, almost as black as the pool.
Upon spotting this me and Aldri were suddenly overcome with…
Hunger.
I shake while I write this, not for the horror he and I committed but because I still hunger, still…
After that night, that gruesome night, we noticed another peculiarity as our bodies had begun to rapidly recover, our flesh returning to its previous state, our muscles regaining their former strength and our minds becoming clear once more.
What we discovered was that if human flesh were to be directly exposed to Obscurum, readied by the ritual, consuming the flesh would grant the same power as consuming the Obscurum but only the host would pay the price, the host still being alive that is.
We had done it.
Godhood lay within our grasp.
Unlimited power without the cost, or so we thought at the time.
We did not consider our humanity nor the lives of others to be a price too high to pay as we consumed men, women and even children.
Not all were killed however as individuals who showed either talent or a lust for power were initiated into our group, to become so-called chosen in our quest to ascend to something more than man ever dared aspire.
After operating for many years, what once started as just me and Aldri had grown into a full-fledged religion by the name of ‘Aldri Obscurum.’
As derivable from the name Aldri had grown into a god like figure who was, by some, even more revered than the Obscurum itself.
Though revered is perhaps not the correct word as feared would fit equally well for Aldri had become very powerful.
He had long since abandoned his human form for the gluttony that had taken him, his insatiable hunger for Obscurum tainted flesh had transformed him into an enormous gelatinous mass, no more man than any beast.
He could no longer move but had an army of followers dedicated solely to finding, tainting and feeding him human flesh.
Fanatics they were, mad individuals who believed Aldri would one day ascend to true godhood using the power gained by the Obscurum.
They had gone so far as to build a temple around the pool specifically designed to house him and easily supply him with near endless piles of the tainted flesh.
I too very much indulged in the flesh though not nearly as much as Aldri at this time.
Where he spent his days either feasting or discovering new powers I had been bearing witness to the atrocities committed by his followers.
How entire villages were raided, how all men, women and children were captured, exposed to the Obscurum and then very carefully, very slowly consumed by these chosen.
Cannibalism among the members was also common practice for the power that Obscurum yields is directly transferable through consumption as well.
All but me and Aldri were constantly looking over their shoulder for only he and I were powerful enough to consume any who dared challenge us, which we did on occasion.
We had become so powerful, more powerful than I could’ve ever imagined going into that wooden house so many years ago.
What followed next we should’ve seen coming for fear only gets one so far and it was this fear that caused the people to rise up against Aldri and his Aldri Obscurum.
Wars raged for many years while Aldri fed and fed, uncaring as to the fate of his followers or his religion, growing more and more powerful with every victim.
His followers lost ground fast for as powerful as they were they were not nearly as plentiful as the combined forces of all the surrounding nations.
When these united forces of man finally reached the temple the war was swiftly deemed over.
I fled only days before the end, making my escape thanks to the fact that Aldri had made himself the leader of the Aldri Obscurum therefore I had remained largely out of the picture, known only by a few.
They never slew Aldri, never sacked the temple nor destroyed the pool for they couldn’t, not with their limited tools and knowledge.
They simply buried it, Aldri, his followers, the temple and the pool, deep beneath the earth and wiped all records of the Obscurum and the ‘War of Flesh’ as some had called it.

Over the years it has been all but forgotten what had happened for not a soul on this earth wishes to remember those dark years in mans already gruesome history.
None but me for I am nearing my end.
Obscurum is highly addictive and without its presence my power is slowly declining, my body is shutting down and my soul is breaking.
I write this report in the hopes that someone, pure of heart, will be able to find the temple, to unearth the Obscurum and destroy it together with the abomination that I know still feasts on the endless pool , becoming more powerful with every sip.

For if Aldri were to ever return to the world of man, not a soul will be spared, not an inch of flesh will escape his endless hunger for power.

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