In the heart of an impenetrable shadow forest, shrouded in an eerie silence, lay a desolate hamlet. Within its confines dwelled a figure draped in the sinister cloak of mystery, the Story Eater. Whispered about in hushed tones, his name was feared, while his presence unforgiving. His abode stood as a forbidding testament to his malevolence. The village itself, once teeming with life, now lay abandoned, its inhabitants vanishing into the abyss, leaving only the Story Eater to reign over the desolation. Those who remained witnessed first hand, the harrowing consequences of defiance, their fates sealed, their lives stories cut short.

For the Story Eater, life was a tapestry woven from the threads of human experience, each tale a morsel to be savoured, a fragment of truth to be consumed. But beneath the veneer of his insatiable appetite lay a deeper truth, a yearning born of loneliness and despair. For in his quest for stories, he had forsaken the bonds of human connection, trading the warmth of companionship for the cold embrace of solitude.

Rarely did the enigmatic figure remain confined within the walls of his house, instead, he roamed the lands, a relentless seeker of stories steeped in darkness. His insatiable appetite craved the macabre.

In his ceaseless quest for the next tale to consume, his path converged with the remnants of a once-great civilisation, the Akkadians. Veiled in mystery, their downfall whispered through time, a riddle without resolution save for a lone artifact, a cryptic stone tablet, its glyphs a cipher to the enigma of their demise. And so, drawn by the allure of the unknown, the Story Eater embarked on yet another journey into the depths of darkness, his shadowed silhouette a harbinger of impending doom.

Rumours of the tablet's elusive location echoed through the villages surrounding the dessert. Its guardians, cloaked in shadow and steeped in ancient magic, stood as formidable barriers to all who dared approach. Many had ventured forth in pursuit of its secrets, only to be consumed by the darkness that dwelled within. Those few who returned witnessed the toll exacted by the forbidden knowledge, their minds fractured, their voices lost to a language born of madness.

For the Story Eater, such perils were but trivial obstacles on his quest. Oblivious to the dangers that lurked ahead, he journeyed through the shifting sands of the desert. Undeterred by mortal concerns of fatigue or sustenance, he pressed forward, trailed by whispers that stirred in his wake.

Guided by the faint traces of ancient ruins that he stumbled upon, the Story Eater paused momentarily. He reached into his sack, withdrawing a tome. He devoured the essence of the written word, and his consciousness started slipping into the realm of dreams, until he fell asleep.

As the Story Eater stirred from his slumber, before him a heap of bones had appeared, scattered in disarray upon the desert floor. He breathed life into the skeletal remains, shaping them into a grotesque semblance of a steed. Mounting this apparition, the Story Eater embarked upon the next leg of his journey.

Its bones clattering with an eerie rhythm as it tore through the desert sands with the speed of a lightning. In the distance, the silhouette of looming ruins painted a smirk upon the Story Eater's lips. Once they got close, the horse's bones dissolved into grains of sand, the Story Eater fell onto the desert floor, murmuring, "Just in time." His power was formidable, yes, but every force must yield to its weakness. For the stories he brought to life to endure, they required purpose, a tether to bind them to earths realm. The way the Story Eater managed that was by giving them a purpose, otherwise they can't be controlled and will act unpredictably. And now that the horse's purpose fulfilled, it vanished.

With measured steps, he ventured deeper into the heart of the ruins, marveling at the grandeur of bygone civilizations etched in stone. Within the crumbling walls, he found a temple. Drawing forth another tome from his sack, he consumed its essence, his consciousness slipping into the realm of dreams once more.

Awakening to a metallic cacophony, the Story Eater beheld a sight both fearsome and majestic – a suit of armour, forged from scraps of metal, towering before him. With a single command, it sprang to life, a silent sentinel to guard his passage through this mysterious place.

Before he took one more step forward the armour disappeared in a flash and a loud bang was heard, the size and heavy plating didn't affect it's speed at all, he looks around to locate the sound and sees the knight walking back towards him covered in blood, "Dear God" he said quietly, and kept walking towards his original destination.

This event would repeat several times but the Story Eater was not in the very least curious to see what the creatures that were slayed by the knight were, he approached what looked like an entrance to a temple and before he entered he ate another book to summon a creature, this time it was a stone gargoyle about as tall as himself who emitted a faint light, this would serve well for the darkness.

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Awfully quiet it was inside the dark temple, the Story Eater was more at peace when the knight was targeting and killing things, now whatever other dangers lay there he could only hope that he was prepared adequately.

"Stop" he said, and the summons completely froze, he closed his eyes to focus his hearing. There was distinct whispering coming from one direction, the man started walking again very slowly in that direction until he came across a small room, it was well illuminated inside and on the far wall he saw what could only be the tablet, he got closer and closer but the whispers always remained at a distance, as if they were merely inside his head. He ran his hand through the dusty stone to reveal symbols, it had perfect edges and curves and were so symmetrical one would assume they were carved by a high precision piece of machinery.

The Story Eater slowly removed his shirt to reveal a big scar that hadn't healed in the middle of his torso, it was  stitched tightly with what looked like thick fiber.  Taking a knife out of his pocket and with one smooth motion, he tore up all the stitches and his belly opened wide like a cabinet. Where you would expect the ungodly sight of internal organs spilling out, there was only a pitch black void, the Eater carefully placed the stone tablet inside and proceeded to stitch himself, barely making it in time, before promptly drifting away.

Regaining conscience slowly the man looked around. Everything looked the same, just less aged, there was no dust anymore in the floor, the walls had no cracks, he stood up and yelled out "Move", fully expecting to hear the knight and gargoyle to enter the room or at least hear their footsteps approaching but there was no sound.

He walked out of the room thinking he had been transported to a different world but when he arrived at where he left off his two minions he stared with bewildered eyes at the dismembered armour, it was nailed to the ceiling and the gargoyles limbs were spread out around the floor, in a small panic he rushed out of the temple and looked outside, where there used to be ruins, there was now buildings, "If I'm still in the same world, something or someone must be responsible for what happened back there, I have to be careful".

The Story Eater was now running out of the city, whatever was going on in there was out of his control, when he got near the exit he quickly devoured another book, but nothing happened. He laid down and closed his eyes, still nothing. "This isn't good", he sat up with his back on a wall and just pondered to himself for a moment, when suddenly the whispers came back, this time they weren't coming from any direction, he stood up and just ran out of there as far as he could, until the city itself wasn't even visible to the naked eye anymore.

Now roaming the desserts his only goal was to get back home, he thought he should try again his powers now that he is far enough, but still they wouldn't work. He took out his knife again and took off his shirt again, just before performing the same ritual as before he stopped before the knife touched his skin, and he shrieked like never before.

The scar wasn't there anymore, the man moved his head closer an just tugged hysterically at his own skin as if looking for a lost object, "WHERE IS IT, WHERE, IT'S GONE, MY POWER". In a deranged fit of madness he burrowed the knife in and yanked it across his belly... Only to reveal his very own organs. "IT, IT HURTS, MAKE IT STOP" he screeched and started wailing on the floor.

After the man calmed down a bit he used his clothing to wrap the wound as much as he could all while screaming from the unimaginable pain caused by none other than himself, once he was done he stood up and started walking once more to the direction he came from. He had to get back to the ruins and figure all this out, even if he decided to go home, even if he somehow managed to get back to his village, it would have been for nothing if he didn't have his ability anymore, he was determined to get it back.

Hours would pass with the Story Eater dragging his feet upon the unsteady ground, each step getting heavier, each breath more laboured but there was nothing on the horizon. He should have at least been able to see the city by now, he couldn't have gotten the direction wrong. Never had he felt this exposed and vulnerable before, for the first time in his life, he was terrified. 

He dropped to his knees from exhaustion and just screamed his lungs out at the sky with what strength he had left before falling flat on his back, it was getting harder and harder to breathe, the feeling of thirst and hunger were unbearable, the need for sustenance was a symptom of losing his abilities as well. The mans eyes were getting heavy. 

"How far I have fallen, a God, reduced to a mortal." 

"This must be what it feels like, to perish... to meet ones end..."

Before closing his eyes, never to open them again, the whispers suddenly became coherent.

"Oh I know very well, how a secret beckons so sweetly, only an honest death will you cure you now, liberate you, from your wild curiosity."

Much time would pass since those events, but no one would come looking for the Story Eater, until...

"What is that"

"Where"

"Look there is something in the sand"

"It looks like a... book?"

"How on earth did a book end up in the middle of nowhere"

"I have a bad feeling about it"

"Don't be silly, it's just a book"

"Look it's covered in blood, we should leave it alone"

"I'm just gonna take a pea-"