It’s cold this morning on Eámanë--a little unusual for this time of year, but not unexpected. Our realm, the last one before Heaven itself, has darkened. Eámanë has inched closer to the Ninth Gate, better known as Black Hole #32206445.
Recently, a reddish mist has emerged from it and the Ninth Gate might open and swallow us whole. It hasn’t yet, but it is a tale worth writing about. After all, it's what I do: observe, protect (those who let us), and to write down the history of each planet, world, and universe. I am the Gatekeeper, one of 300. The scrolls of every world, even yours, is at the tip of my pen.
Of course, if we should sink into the Ninth Gate, all the tales we’ve written are lost. Therefore I shall leave some of the scrolls with you. Keep them safe, these tales of secret worlds. Some say, they might even contain the history of an alternative world that never was. We dare to differ.
Ezra, 7th GateKeeper of Eámanë
Beneath the Blight of Silver Moonlight
Light of the World: A Christmas Story
The Whisperer's Daughter