The Room of Johannes Bureus, Uppsala
The light of the candle was too weak to keep the darkness at bay, but was strong enough to force the shadows to dance in otherworldy patterns.
A bearded, old man was sitting alone in the room, writing in strange script into an old pergamen tome.
Enter the path of Runa
And drink from the well of Urd
Taste the fruits of Iduna
Decipher the signs from the north
Life is eternal for you
When you pass the gate of Hel
(And) come to the end of the row
(Where you find)
The Beast and the God conjoined
(originally by Thomas Karlsson, part of the lyrics for Uthark Runa from Therion)
He continued in another script, on the edge of the skin.
I can not interpret my latest vision. All was so perfect. Everything fits. The Wisdom Of The Gods can be fitted into The Ladder Of Life. Or at least, that is how I thought of it.
But this! This is impossible! The rune-cross must fit! And still, it does not. Something is wrong, somewhere, the hidden meaning was lost to me! I must find it, even if it costs me my life. The knowledge of the gods must be preserved!
Bureus closed the book with a loud slam, spilling ink over some astrological graphs. The old man cursed a bit and then blew the candle, and set down in the middle of his chamber. He began to chant the old alchemist mantra in a low growl:
Visita interiora terrae rectificando invenies occultum lapidem, Visitainteriora terrae rectificando invenies occultumlapidem, Visitainterioraterraerectificando inveniesoccultumlapidem
His chant was gaining speed, his word becoming more and more one continous murmur than separated words, his vision was slowly becoming blurred, he had to close his eyes. He began to raise his voice, slowly, but steadily. After a minute, his crescendo vibrated in the cold stone room, turning the silence of the night into a cacophony akin to a battle.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. His body hit the floor, but he would not notice until the morning.
He was standing on a misty field covered with lush grass. It must have been a few hours before morning, as the horizon was only beginnig to grow filled with danicing cloors of orange, violet and yellow. He took a few steps forward, his legs shaky and unsure, his eyes struggling to accustome to the slowly growing light.
Out of the mist, a runestone appered before him. He leaned close to it, and removed the moss covering it, and began to read the runes.
Haidz runo runu, falh'k hedra ginnarunaz. Argiu hermalausz, weladau■e, saz ■at brytz. U■arba spa
He sprang back, shocked and puzzled from what he had read there. Then, he knew. This was a dream. It was a test. It may be the final key before the Door To Knowledge opens up once and for all.
And then, he spoke words he heard in another vision, loud and clear. He had accepted the price.
His words rang in the eerie silence. The stone began to crack, first slowly,m as if contempleting wether or not Bureus had apssed the test, then quicker, loud with the noise of a thousand otter attemptees who failed the Test Of The Key. It then crumbled to dust with a thunder.
Bureus stepped forward, over the dust of the rune-guard.
A fair-haired woman reached out for the old mans hand, and took him to a place only the Gods know.