Chapter 3: Magical Blessings
The entire library was carved from a special type of black stone.
Adam had noticed this from the beginning, but he hadn't paid it much attention. The stone wasn't particularly hard—based on the tool marks he could see, it had all been meticulously hand-chiseled. What made it special wasn't its physical properties, but its supernatural ones.
This black stone possessed miraculous qualities that could block the prying eyes of Outer Gods and Old Ones. Unless one actively initiated contact with these entities, their influence couldn't penetrate the stone's protection.
The Great Race of Yith had chosen this location specifically because they needed somewhere safe to store the most dangerous knowledge in the universe—information that could drive entire civilizations mad just by existing in the wrong place.
However, the Great Race of Yith hadn't been the original discoverers of this stone.
That honor belonged to Earth's native intelligent species of that era—a race of crustacean-like beings that resembled upright crabs. These creatures had discovered the stone's protective properties and had already begun constructing structures from it when the Great Race arrived.
Rather than simply taking over, the Great Race of Yith had proposed a partnership. The native crab-beings would provide the location and labor for construction, while the Great Race would share their vast cosmic knowledge and provide magical enhancements to make the library truly effective.
But there was a problem: the native species lacked the cosmic awareness necessary to safely access much of the Great Race's knowledge. To address this imbalance, the Great Race of Yith granted three magical blessings to the library itself.
The first blessing was Knowledge—the ability for any intelligent being to comprehend the information contained within the library, regardless of language barriers or the alien nature of the concepts. This was why Adam could understand texts written in scripts that he had never learnt before.
The second blessing was Time—protection against the madness that inevitably came from exposure to cosmic truths. Every visitor to the library was granted a number of chances equal to the fingers on one hand to have their sanity restored and time reversed when they encountered something that would drive them permanently insane.
The third blessing was Sanctity—an enhancement of the black stone's natural properties, preventing any corrupted or polluted spirits from entering the library and maintaining its purity as a place of learning rather than corruption.
These blessings had proven remarkably durable, surviving countless years of erosion and remaining fully functional even now.
Of course, the finger-based calculation system had been designed with specific considerations in mind. The Great Race of Yith possessed seven fingers, while their crab allies had pincers that counted as two fingers each. Their flying worm enemies, having no fingers at all, received no protection—a deliberate exclusion.
The protection wasn't perfect, however. The blessings couldn't completely eliminate the influence of truly unspeakable entities. Somebeings operated beyond the fourth-dimension, levels that exceeded even human comprehension of what "beyond human comprehension" meant.
The Great Race of Yith had designed these magical protections primarily to overcome the obstacles they faced in their academic research. When their studies reached dead ends due to the lethal nature of the knowledge they sought, they would perform rituals outside the library's protection to make contact with great cosmic entities—specifically, avatars of Yog-Sothoth.
The particular aspect they contacted was called Tawil-at-U'mr, a being that sat on a stone throne behind the silver key gate in the ultimate universal abyss.
This entity was considered the most merciful of Yog-Sothoth's manifestations, willing to grant endless knowledge to any beings capable of passing through fhe silver key gate—
Provided they could withstand the weight of that knowledge.
The Great Race's methodology was systematic: they would deliberately allow themselves to be driven mad by cosmic contact, then use the Time blessing to reverse the damage while retaining whatever comprehensible knowledge their souls had managed to absorb during the brief contact. It was controlled madness followed by calculated recovery.
Adam realized that his own experience had been remarkably similar. When he had contacted whatever entity lurked within the ancient book, it had left two magical imprints in his soul—the Curse Worm and Communing with the Lord of the Starry Sea abilities. The Time blessing had saved him from permanent madness just as it had countless Great Race researchers.
However, the protection had limitations. It could save him from most threats, but would be useless against entities like Azathoth or the Three Pillar Gods. More importantly, it wasn't designed for survival against deliberately provoked Old Ones—it was meant for academic exploration, not warfare.
Unfortunately Adam had already used one of his five chances. He had four remaining.
In comparison, Adam felt he was being far more cautious than Merlin had been. His university education and familiarity with Cthulhu mythology gave him advantages that a medieval farm boy simply couldn't have possessed. Where Adam had wasted only one chance through ignorance, Merlin had apparently lost three fingers almost immediately upon his arrival.
By the time Merlin had understood what the finger-based protection system meant, it was too late. The irreversible consequences had already begun to manifest.
According to the research notes Adam had read, Merlin's later years had been marked by severe spiritual corruption. His personality had changed completely, transforming him from the wise mentor of legend into something mad, cruel, and barely recognizable as human. The cosmic knowledge he had absorbed had twisted him into an entity that retained Merlin's memories and magical power but possessed none of his original humanity.
However, in what appeared to be his final moment of clarity, Merlin had managed to write one last coherent message. With prophetic awareness that someone would eventually follow in his footsteps, he had left crucial warnings for the next visitor to find.
"O wise one not of this time and space, traveler from another world, I have foreseen your arrival…"
"I write these words while my mind still holds. The longer I remain, the more the whispers eat at me."
"Do not exhaust your five chances…"
"Do not reach for the Great Race of Yith— at least not until you exist on the same dimensional plane as them.They will hollow you and wear your thoughts."
"You may choose the Supreme Mother Goddess…"
"If possible, come find me. I have left my coordinates on the fourth layer, Shelf III. But do not attempt this lightly until you have attained a divine dimensional plane."
"Should you hear my voice… it is not I. That which imitates me will call. Do not listen. Flee into the library's shadows and bury yourself among the books. I cannot cross… and neither can It."
Reading this final plea from a man who had sacrificed his sanity to leave warnings for a stranger, Adam felt a deep respect for whatever remained of the real Merlin. He silently hoped that wherever the legendary wizard was now, some part of him had found peace.
But practically speaking, Adam decided he would avoid any contact with Merlin if possible. The corrupted entity that bore Merlin's name was clearly no longer someone who could be trusted or reasoned with.
With this understanding, Adam felt confident enough to read Merlin's parchments in their entirety. Written during Merlin's final coherent period, they contained no treacherous traps or hidden dangers—just the accumulated wisdom of someone who had walked this path before and wanted to help others avoid his mistakes.
The educational value of Merlin's notes was immense. They chronicled his complete journey from farm boy to grand sorcerer, covering everything from the initial awakening of magical power to the complex manipulation of magical essence that had made him legendary.
Adam decided to start with the most basic spell Merlin recommended for absolute beginners.
"Yujiadili, Wu'er, Ousalia," Adam spoke the incantation aloud, focusing his will as Merlin's instructions suggested.
This was the Levitation Charm recorded in Merlin's diary, the simplest and most suitable spell for beginners to awaken their magical power.
Nothing happened.
Although Adam had successfully cast the Curse Worm earlier, the Curse Worm was an instinct engraved onto his soul by an Outer God. Before he learned to channel his own magical power, the Curse Worm drew its strength from his mental energy rather than his inherent magical power.
Adam tried again. And again.
After forty or fifty attempts, each met with complete failure, Adam was beginning to wonder if he possessed any magical talent at all. His throat was dry from repeating the incantation, and his concentration was wavering from fatigue.
Then, on what must have been his fifty-first attempt, something shifted.
The wooden quill on the desk rose approximately two inches into the air and hovered there for nearly ten seconds before dropping back down with a soft thud.
The effort left Adam completely exhausted. His magical reserves, newly awakened and barely developed, had been drained by that brief success. He collapsed onto the stone steps, breathing heavily but grinning with satisfaction.
It was a small beginning, but it was a beginning nonetheless. The foundation for whatever magical development lay ahead had been established.
Adam closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of rest. When he opened them again, he would continue reading Merlin's notes and practicing the exercises that would help him develop the power he would need to survive in this dangerous universe.
But for now, watching that quill hover in the air had been enough to give him hope that he might actually have a chance of following in Merlin's footsteps—while hopefully avoiding Merlin's tragic fate.