Skyless Heaven
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Muharram 5th, 1646 Hijr

The Children of the Night rarely did things crudely.

Their creations were not perfect, or eternal. But neither were they incomplete or unfinished. They didn't do "good enough." One does not rule entire worlds by doing "good enough."

If nothing else, I could depend on that from them.

All human civilization had gazed into the night sky and dreamt of reaching the stars. Surely the Nightclad Monarchs also saw the same dream upon the jeweled sky?

Or maybe I'm just insane. Maybe they were different, dreaming not to touch the stars as none of us humans dreamt to touch the sun. Maybe they merely saw the glittering sky as decoration with indifference, coddled by their opulent empire.

Doubt is as sure to come in a journey as sunset is to an evening.


Muharram 14th, 1646 Hijr

A ruin of Nights Forgotten would be ancient beyond measure, older than known remnants of human civilization, save some random Paleolithic knick-knacks. There's always a possibility that my journey would find nothing even if they did try to reach the stars, their effort erased both by our advent and the sheer amount of time since.

But without faith, what else do I have?

Tonight will be a full moon. Hopefully the moonlight would guide my path.


Muharram 15th, 1646 Hijr

The moonlit sands was no different last night than any other night: cold, desolate, empty.

Hopeless.

Be it the elements, or ourselves, or themselves trying to prevent us from reaching the Worlds Beyond, the result remains the same: there were nothing left. There's nothing nothing nothing nothing NOTHING

FUCK


Muharram 16th, 1646 Hijr

Perhaps I was too hasty to conclude that there's nothing. I had been up all night, and only slept barely before midday, and my judgement were distorted.

The Children of the Night were, of course, nocturnal people. It was not unreasonable to expect that moonlight held significance in their culture. What was unreasonable however, was my expectation to find a remnant of their civilization through mundane means. The lunar phase barely shifted tonight, I could only hope that the slight variance of moonlight was not enough to alter the aether.

I will return after I finished setting up. It worked.

The sand glows in aetheric colors as if burning diamond dust. A colossal pillar, invisible to primitive eyes dependent on Solar radiance, pierced the sky, branches and roots twinkling in the myriad colors resonating with my very soul.

Titania's throne is yet to be scorched.


Muharram 19th, 1646 Hijr

The monument is, predictably, intangible in the sunlight.

I could see it at night even without rituals nor equipment, now that my soul had been tuned to it. But it is still incorporeal, my body pass through it as easily as if it was empty air. It didn't react to my True Name, nor any of the simple rituals—I now wish that I had taken more attention into the esoteric arts. Even the salve made of Starfish blood did little to no effect.

I bet Abu Haidar would've know what to do. It's said that the old man knocked a platoon of police trying to demolish the little musalla he taught in with only simple gestures, long before I was born. I didn't doubt it, still don't. He had the aura of an ancient sage who had seen all there is to see in the world.

Alas, he passed on, so I have to do this one on my own.

But now that I know where and how to find the throne, I guess I could afford to spend the time to experiment.


Muharram 23rd, 1646 Hijr

I experimented again with blessings and curses, invoking angels and demons into tools and items—sometimes both, just for the sake of completeness, but they fizzled out as expected. None of them had any effect to the throne. I also tried consuming them, to no avail; if anyone ever find this journal, never try to eat cursed items. Your guts would hate you.

Is it simply an illusion, then? A mockery of humanity's dream?

No, it cannot be. Their verdant radiance is too blinding for it to be mere illusion. The Night beckons with soul-aching calls.


Muharram 24th, 1646 Hijr

I accidentally released an unbound spirit at the throne last night. I expected it to simply pass through as it decay, but it didn't.

Instead, the pillar danced with auroral light.

I had it all wrong. It was not a way to the Worlds Beyond. The meaning of the title Titania's throne is much simpler than that. The tree itself is the World Beyond. The unbound spirit was capable of touching the pillar because it was true immaterial, just like my soul is capable of seeing the throne.

Only those of pure souls may enter her domain.

Am I ready for this?


Safar 1st, 1646 Hijr

I embrace the Eternal Night.

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