Ebrugh Report 9: The World Was Never Ours

In this Ebrugh Report, a history student ventures into an old archive.
==Summary==
In the heart of Rome, a history student embarks on a quest to uncover the mysteries of humanity's past. While residing in a remote hotel in the historic city, he stumbles upon a local legend — the tale of Marco Dagio, a former guest who became obsessed with a clandestine secret before vanishing without a trace.
Intrigued by the unsolved disappearance, the history student delves into the enigma of Marco Dagio, hoping to unearth the secrets he had uncovered. His journey leads him to an ancient archive tucked away in a remote corner of Rome, where history and the inexplicable converge.
Within the depths of the ancient archive, the history student makes a chilling discovery that transcends the boundaries of time and reason. He encounters a bizarre machine-like creature of unknown origin, a sentient entity that nearly entraps him within its mechanical clutches. Miraculously escaping this close encounter, he leaves the archive but not without carrying with him the indelible mark of the strange machine creature.
Upon returning home, the history student finds himself plagued by a series of perplexing and vivid dreams that center around the ancient archive and its cryptic contents. In these dreams, he experiences a profound connection with Marco Dagio's quest for knowledge and an understanding of a group of entities known as the "Ebrugh," whose role in shaping humanity's past remains shrouded in mystery.
As the history student unravels the cryptic threads woven throughout his dreams, he becomes increasingly convinced that he possesses fragments of the truth about the Ebrugh and the hidden tapestry of human history. However, the line between reality and the surreal blurs, and he grapples with the uncertainty of whether he is truly uncovering profound revelations or merely descending into the enigmatic abyss of the past.
==Ebrugh Report 9==
===Rumoured Origin===
This story is the most important one I have managed to unearth. However, upon reviewing it, I must apologize to you. I likely have uncovered something that was not meant to be discovered, and it may bring danger to us all. Despite this, I still want to share this knowledge with you all and reveal the truth. But be warned, this truth may never put you at ease again.
The following was sent to a journalist, who is a good friend of mine, by a young man whose fate I do not know, but for whom I fear the worst. I must be honest - I do not know whether reading or listening to these lines will put you in danger as well. Therefore, you must decide for yourself: do you want to know the truth? The truth about the Ebrugh? You have been warned.
===Main Report===
The strange tale of Marco Dagio's fate had been met with little interest from the public. His mysterious, silent disappearance from a room in the hotel Una Arteminde in one of Rome's more run-down alleys was not something reported by the media – except perhaps for a small note in the "Il Messagero", one of the regional outlets.
I would have never known about Marco either, hadn't my travels led me to the scanty hotel room where his strange and terrifying experiences had taken their course.
Curiosity had made me travel to the Holy City and, due to my major in ancient history, Rome and the Vatican lured me in with all their testimonies of times gone. And so it came to be that I walked around between old chapels and houses, only carrying my backpack, looking for traces of past times and societies and for a room to rest in after a long day of walking.
I just wanted to learn as much as I could, about the city, about our past, about where we came from. It was such a miracle, the human race, evolved from apes, slowly conquering the planet, and I wanted to know all about the origins of our society.
Why had we started to build cities and what had been our first ways of life, our beliefs? What great technologies had we thought up, what customs to stabilize tribes and people? I loved those questions and had already learned a lot at university, but now also needed to see those beginnings of mankind myself. I had to walk in some of the first great cathedrals, the first great cities, here, close by. I knew that there had been others before the Romans, but I still believed that their role in history was one of the most important parts. Still, I planned on visiting other locations in the future, once I had gotten grants or scholarships. I wanted to see so many places of ancient history, Mayan ruins, Chinese temples… So much was out there. So much to be discovered!
As I am not very wealthy as a student – on the contrary – I could not rent a room in one of the more known and prestigious hotels and therefore had to venture into one of the darker parts of Rome, far away from inviting lights and jolly conversations.
The alleys I strolled through in the evening felt more contorted and battered with each step, the window shutters and wall claddings started to look more dilapidated and brittle while high walls rose up at both sides of the narrow roads. Uncomfortable bleakness was emitted by my surroundings as the houses were without ornaments and decorations. I passed one or two small chapels, wedged between big housing blocks, their steeples halfway rotten, their red brick roofs punctured with holes. Those old buildings were gated by heavy, moss-covered wooden doors and felt uninviting, almost repulsive. Everything reeked of urine and alcohol and the faint rattling of old cars and bikes enhanced this feeling of unease even more.
I had left the main road behind a long time ago and was quite taken aback by the existence of such a shabby place deep within Rome's bowels. The city was renowned for its magnificence and beauty after all. The people living in these alleys were strangely foreign and defensive when spotting me. These experiences were opposite to what I had gotten to know from the folks I had met around the train station and the other city parts I had visited in the afternoon, folks who had all been jolly and kind.
These people here were different, though, and had hard and doubting looks. The women hurried away from me, and the men gazed at me with their brows furrowed before going back into their old coffee houses and taverns, almost as if they went back to their own distant worlds. When the sun had already set and cool lights shone from within the buildings, I reached a small square that finally saved me from those narrow alleys, exhausted and hungry.
An ugly pavement covered the ground, and in the middle of the old forum, I spotted a statue made from granite, seemingly looking in my direction. It was supposed to be a discus thrower, though that only became apparent when I got closer and was able to read the old sign on the ground, giving sparse information on the work of art. Time had not been kind to the statue as it was partly covered by moss and smelled disgustingly moldy. The shape of the athlete was just barely recognizable, and his face was dented in at many places and had gotten demolished by seeming acts of vandalism. The arm of the figure, raised for a throw, was missing the hand, leaving behind a sad stump.
I slowly turned away from the statue, which must have been a marvel of statuary once - before becoming a crippled shade of itself through the influences of time and men. I sadly walked away from it while feeling gazes on my neck coming from the surrounding buildings.
Bordering on that square, I found the Una Artemide with its warmly lit windows, brown walls, and overgrown bushes next to the entrance doors. As it had gotten rather late, I quickly moved towards the building, feeling a sense of melancholy when looking at the dark contours around me.
When I finally left the square and its depressing surroundings behind and entered the hotel's foyer, a man smelling strongly of aftershave greeted me, looking tired and somewhat grim. I hesitated a little before asking for a cheap room that I could rent for a few days, but he quickly made a good offer for Room 24, which I could move into right away.
The man told me about many people who come to this part of the city, searching for a place to stay despite the uninviting nature of the area. He advised me against talking to the locals, as they felt harassed very quickly, and he proceeded to show me some maps with more interesting places to visit during the next few days.
Overall, I looked forward to exploring these areas from the Una Artemide as my base of operations, wandering the dilapidated streets of Rome to gather new knowledge and learn more about our past. The man gave me a large iron key with a bronze plate engraved with the room number and told me about the huge breakfast served every morning around 8 AM in the hotel's dining room.
My worries slowly dissipated, and I began to enjoy the old building and the thought of spending some nights there.
After leaving the foyer and getting a hot soup from the kitchen, I ascended the old wooden staircase to the second floor. As I walked down the dimly lit corridor, the floorboards creaked beneath my feet.
When I reached room 24 and inserted my key into the keyhole, I suddenly felt as though someone was watching me. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickly turned around to see an eye watching me from the room opposite before the door slammed shut.
Confused but determined to ignore the unsettling feeling, I entered my room. It was a small space, with torn tapestries and uninviting brown floorboards. The cold, white light from the small lamps on the ceiling only accentuated the run-down state of the place. Despite this, a large wardrobe made of dark wood provided ample space for my belongings, and I quickly changed into my sleeping attire.
As I entered the decrepit bathroom through a small green door, I couldn't help but notice the old tiles on the walls. Though the condition of the bathroom didn't bother me due to my exhaustion, I quickly brushed my teeth and prepared for sleep.
Despite the less than ideal conditions, the bed was relatively comfortable, and I drifted off to sleep faster than I had expected.
***
When I woke up the next morning to the noise of my phone's alarm, I was shaking and drenched in sweat. My head hurt a little and I knew that I had horrid dreams, though their content had already been locked away by my mind. I imagined that something had come and visited me during the past night, something that had opened the darkest abyss of my thoughts, but I couldn't explain those feelings, and after a short cold shower, everything was fine again.
The dining room was quite cozy – as I had to admit – and some of the other residents greeted me friendly and gave me a feeling of peace and comfort. The food was indeed plentiful and tasty, and I quickly started to feel at home.
Suddenly, an old man approached, without a doubt an Italian, and after some hesitation, he sat down next to me at the table, looking at me with curiosity. I recognized his eyes as the ones that had observed me the day before from the room opposite of mine. After an initial silence, he started a conversation while his gaze wandered around fearfully. His voice was soft, but every single one of his words was soaked with panic when he addressed me:
"Please excuse my behavior. You must surely think of me as a rude person, but rest assured that I act the way I did for a good reason! My name is Silvio, and I would love to say that I am pleased to meet you, but that would be a lie. No, no, that has nothing to do with you! I am just worried, really worried! About you! I must talk to you, but not here where one could hear it. Who knows who... or what... is listening in! I beg you, let us go outside and walk to some other streets a bit more distant from here and talk. I am sorry for my secrecy, but this is a matter of life and death. Of YOUR life and death. So please come!"
I blinked in confusion and was about to tell him to bother other people, but the old man hastily added, "I will pay for your room—if you want to keep it after our talk, that is! Now, hurry!"
I liked that offer, so it seemed logical to take him up on it, even if he was trying to scam me somehow. So, I agreed to Silvio's proposal, and after finishing the rest of our breakfast in silence, we left the hotel and quickly put some distance between us and the old building, exactly as old Silvio had suggested. We came to a busy road and spotted a bench where we could sit down.
"What did you want to tell me?" I asked after looking at the cars around us for a while.
"First things first: Sorry again! But it's important that you leave... that room... for good! Immediately! It is not safe in there!" Silvio started.
"Why? What could possibly happen?" I asked.
"It... I better start from the beginning. I have been living in the hotel for some months now. It is a pretty nice place, all things considered, located in a rather uninviting area, but oh well... I had been living in the hotel because my daughter is working there as a chef, and that is why I pay less rent than one normally would. But I digress...
It started when Marco Dagio moved into room 24. I liked him. He was a rather pleasant fellow but was hell-bent on his research. He worked on something behind closed doors, some books perhaps, though I can't be sure. He did not go out very often, and there were no noises coming out of the room, so who really knows. I only met him during breakfast, and sometimes we would start talking. I did not find out much, only that he was looking for something in this area of Rome, something huge, at least that's what he told me. He was sure that something was slumbering in this area, something one could not even dream up in the wildest fantasies, but it was supposed to be real. He sounded a little mad, but his voice was trembling with the spirit of endeavor.
However, one day, he started to leave in the mornings and stayed away until nightfall. He got more nervous, tense, almost afraid. I did not know where he went, what he was looking for, where he poked around, but he seemed both terrified and... ecstatic.
Then, he stayed away during the night and did not return. I got worried but couldn't take action. The authorities around here would never look for a stranger; they just don't care. Besides, I had no idea where he went anyway and thus could not go looking for him on my own. That is why I eagerly waited for his return, but Marco was gone."
"And what has that got to do with me? I don't feel that there is anything terrible about that story just because he found another place to stay without telling you," I remarked.
Silvio suddenly started shaking, and his face turned pale.
"The bad thing was not the time when he was gone. The bad thing was the time after he returned," Silvio's voice trembled.
"One evening, he came back dirty, sweaty, and wet, his clothes ripped to shreds, and his face white as chalk, holding his notebook. He went into his room and terrified me horrendously. That night, I don't know exactly what happened inside that room, but it must have been pure horror. At about 3 AM, I heard an icy scream - a scream I will never forget. The sound cut into my very soul and woke an ancient fear that still rages within me even now. I had someone break down the locked door, but Marco wasn't there. He was gone. The windows were all shut tightly, and there was no sign of him. The police thought I was crazy, but I know that something unspeakable happened in that room. Since that night, I am afraid to be inside the hotel, and the closer I get to room 24, the more the panic grows. Something is still there, something that is not supposed to be! You must move out of that room immediately! All the others believed me. I saved them. So let me save you as well!" Silvio begged.
I got goosebumps, but my courage had not left me. "That is madness! That can't be. There must be a rational explanation! I will stay in that room, especially since you said you would pay for it. I listened to your story after all," I said defiantly.
Silvio's face hardened. "As you wish. I thought you might listen, but you are too ignorant. I will pay for your room, but you will not be there for long anyway. That's what I predict, at least!" he said grimly and walked away.
I sat there for a while, lost in thought, but finally decided to hit the road and look for some churches to visit and some knowledge to reap.
***
It had become evening again when I returned from my explorational trip through the city back to the hotel and went to my room. I had learned so much! Many tales of old buildings and their lives. Stories about paintings and sculptures. I was content.
As I strolled through the floors, I met Silvio who tried to stop me from getting into room 24 for one last time, though his efforts did not bear any fruit; I simply ignored the old Italian and entered my chamber.
If I had known what was about to happen, I would have left on the spot, hurrying back to Germany, where my life would have been boring and normal for the rest of my days.
But I stayed.
The lights flickered ominously and unsettled me, a menace, threatening me, though that had to be just because of my vivid imagination. I entered the bathroom, ready to brush my teeth.
When I looked into the mirror I froze. For a short moment I believed to see a tall, distorted shade standing in the room far behind me. My throat started hurting, even though everything was normal again after some blinking. The illusion had left behind a bitter taste in my mouth.
Breathing calmly, I leaned against the wall where my hand brushed against one of the loose tiles. I stopped and realized that it could be taken out. I uncovered a small opening, letting a horrible stench into the room. What could rest inside? A rotten hand? The cadaver of a rat? Why hadn't I noticed the stench before? I got my smartphone from the main room whilst looking for the shade, though I could spot nothing out of the ordinary.
Of course not.
Gripped by anxiety, I shone the phone's light into the gaping black hole in the wall and finally spotted a leathery object resting deep down inside the niche. When I pulled the rugged thing with some disgust out of its hiding place, I recognized it as an old notebook or diary. The pages were yellowed and old, at the end some were missing, and scrawly cursive English writing covered most of them.
The cover told me that this was the journal of Marco Dagio. Despite the stench and against all reason I decided to read the hideous thing. To uncover what really had happened.
I just had to know! It couldn't be that the man had just vanished from his room! Where should he have gone to, after all? Also, Silvio had said that Marco had looked for something incredible. Dangerous, but incredible.
I just had to know! What if I discovered something worthwhile? Something amazing? Surely, it would not be… too dangerous. Surely, there was a rational explanation for all of this!
Holding on to these thoughts, I took the book and laid down on the bed. Full of excitement, I started reading.
As I turned the pages, the words of the diary began to reveal an obsession with the occult and the supernatural. Marco wrote about his search for a mysterious document, which he believed was hidden somewhere within the city. He described in detail the strange occurrences and inexplicable phenomena that he had read about during his search. The more I read, the more I felt a sense of unease creeping over me…
May 4, 2013:
During my research, I discovered some interesting documents in the Vatican's archives, originating in the 14th century. They are about an object of Satan, being brought to the West by a traveler from the East, probably China, Korea or Japan. It appears to be a black hand mirror which is surrounded by horrifying happenings that drove the traveler's family mad. That, in turn, led to the inquisition burning them at the stake as witches. The uncanny thing catching my eye is the fact that the story is almost identical to one from a German psychiatrist.
The man had vanished from his room one night, though he still managed to send his notes to a newspaper. It is perhaps only a coincidence that similar reports have surfaced over the years, mostly unknown and quickly locked away by certain institutions like the Catholic Church or the Society of Eb. Thanks to my profession and my previous work, I was finally able to look for more documents in the Vatican's archives that might imply events of unknown cause. Unfortunately, I was never able to find someone who could tell me stories of true substance about all those happenings I had found hints to during the past years. Obviously, one should be careful when hypothesizing just based on some written documents, but I am certain of the validity of my thoughts.
May 17, 2013:
After having done a bit more research, I got news of a man who met some unspeakable things in Eastern Europe; a man who only hesitatingly gave away his information. He seems to be shaken to the core if my source is to be believed. Tomorrow, I will hurry to Vienna, meeting said man, and perhaps I will get some more information on all the puzzling events. Then, my theories will finally be confirmed. I am looking forward to tomorrow.
May 18, 2013:
There has been a major setback. My interview with the man from Vienna has not taken place as he has disappeared from his room during the last night. A friend of his who is connected to his story is nowhere to be found either. I was too late! I have to find another clue, one that will not lead to nothingness in such a disastrous manner. Nonetheless, I will not be disheartened by this turn of events and carry on my research. Perhaps there will be more to find in the archives. I just have to keep digging!
June 18, 2013:
Finally, another clue! I discovered the testaments of an old secret cult that existed back in ancient times. Its history was locked away deep within the Vatican's archives, and I had to move heaven and earth to get a permit for
entering those areas. But luckily, some money and some friends made it possible, and so I might learn more important things very soon. Then, my work will finally bear fruit!
24th June 2013
I can't believe what is starting to surface... The whole matter is far greater than I ever could have imagined, so much greater! They have been the ones; they hid it away. The greatest knowledge of mankind, the power to move mountains and climb the moon! Unfathomable knowledge! It is still here, here in Rome. The entrance is at the "Riserva Naturale della Marcigliana"! It's so close, only minutes by car. I can't believe it! I have to go and find it, beneath the trees, at the three stones, guarded by Pluto. It's clever, but obvious if one knows. If one knows! The truth, the old secret! And then, I will have made it! I will be famous, a hero, the ultimate scientist!
There was another last entry, undated, and its contents made me gasp out loud. It was scribbled down more hastily, and by reading it, I got the feeling of looking at the writings of a lunatic. The last sentence in the diary was simply a single, terrifying sentence:
"It's too late. They're coming for me."
What had he found below Roman streets? A secret, without a doubt, but which one?
What ancient knowledge lay beneath my feet?
I had to know; I just had to! I knew how he had felt. What he had craved. The bliss of new truths. The happiness of discovery.
Quickly, I got up and packed my belongings into my backpack. A strange eagerness had gripped me, as though preparing me for a long walk. My thoughts were racing, and I was sweating like mad due to the excitement.
I ran to the door, ready to open it, when my smartphone started vibrating. I looked at the display and stopped. The screen had gotten strangely distorted, and white noise covered all of it, almost like the one on old television sets. I looked at my wristwatch, almost by accident.
It was 3 AM.
Suddenly, I remembered the words old Silvio had muttered in the morning; an icy shiver ran down my spine.
"Marco disappeared around 3 AM..."
The lights in the room started flickering, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins. A dangerous doom was approaching; I could feel it! I had to leave; I had to...
I kicked open the door and jumped out, clinging to the luggage I had carried with me, when the lights inside the chamber died off for good.
I stared into the darkness, listening. There was only silence. It had just been the lights...
I almost fainted when I realized that the room was not empty, that someone or something was there. Staring back at me.
I could not see what it was. I pressed my back against Silvio's door and looked into the blackness, looked at... it.
My senses started to fade when I saw a skinny, inhuman hand, white as milk, with coarse skin and six fingers, reach for me, emerging from the darkness of the room.
And then I heard its gurgling, clicking voice:
"Ebrugh... Ebrugh... You will all cease... I think... I think, you might be able to see it now... Eslud esmad... The Ancient Age... just vermin, cattle... Kage no hitobito, Fuka-sa..."
When I came to my senses, I was standing next to a bench in a park, my belongings in one hand, Marco's journal in the other. I did not know how I had gotten there, whether I had run screaming through the streets of Rome or crawled like a beaten dog. My thoughts were spinning, and in the end, I threw up on the ground, my head filled with panic and terror. I felt watched, hunted.
I had to find out what was going on; this couldn't be happening! And now I was certain...there was something unnatural below me. I should have left the country, but my mind was taken over by the urge to know, to learn. I started walking; I would look for what Marco had already found. I would learn the secrets!
***
Pluto's sinister gaze rested on me as I closed in on my destination. The statue was standing on a little patch of untended grassland framed by two big buildings.
I had already seen depictions of the old god of the underworld, though this three-meter-tall figure sent foreboding shivers down my spine.
The statue was made from granite and depicted Pluto holding a long, thin scepter or spear to support him. The tool was strangely bent and partly eaten away by time, but it also seemed to stir up some repressed memories slumbering deep within me.
My curious eyes did not rest on the scepter for long, however, as they were almost immediately distracted by the rest of the statue. Pluto towered in front of me, his ragged, shaggy beard looking wild and dirty. His empty pupils seemed to inspect me, piercing me to the core. I could barely see his grim mouth, which sent silent threats together with his bushy eyebrows. The sculptor who had created this alien piece of art had made the robe seem almost real and unbelievably detailed.
When I finally managed to turn away from the muscular deity, shuddering, I noticed a second statue standing at the feet of Pluto.
It did not seem finished, more like a three-dimensional sketch that some artist had made of Cerberus. The three-headed hellhound could only be recognized by some work of imagination, its body being bulky, covered in dents, and in some areas in a shade of grey that made me sick.
I was instantly certain that I had found the right place, as the three stones Marco had written about were without a doubt the heads of this incomplete Cerberus. I quickly started to inspect the ugly statue, slowly running my hand across its granite surface, feeling for irregularities. When my fingers reached the grey areas, I had to suppress a scream of disgust.
The surface was solid, but not made from granite. It was slightly slimy, reminding me of jelly or raw muscles that had somehow grown out of the statue. I already wanted to turn away and leave in disgust when I heard a faint rumbling sound, and the sculpture of Pluto slowly moved away from its place.
How was this possible? I was sure that I hadn't touched some hidden button or something similar. Even if I had, it would have been far beyond anything people from back then could have constructed! I went closer to the statue and looked down a hole of yawning blackness and of a strangely stretched-out shape where Pluto had been standing guard. The streetlights close by were not enough to make out any more details, so I decided to get a torch from my backpack. Soon, I leaned over the hole, ready to illuminate it.
As I used the bright light, I could see a stairway leading down into sinister darkness. What was I even doing? Should I not call the authorities? Who knew where those damned steps led? I was about to take out my phone and make the call when Marco's writings came back into my mind.
What if there really was something unbelievable to be discovered down there? Unending fame? Would I let someone take that from me? The opportunity to discover something life-changing at the end of that path? No! I had to get down there on my own, just me!
Using my smartphone, I sent a text message to a friend, telling him about my current position and where I was planning to go. I told him to call the police if I did not send him another text by the next morning. That way, I thought I was quite safe.
It was 3:45 AM, and my smartphone would remind me of the time and the need to eventually return to the surface. Slowly, I started my descent into darkness, guided only by the light of my torch as I walked down the narrow but high corridor. The walls were smooth and seemed to be made of the same material as the Cerberus standing at the entrance. I was confused as to why nobody had taken notice of the two statues and wondered how this corridor had managed to stay hidden all this time. Repulsive, grey-shaded patterns ran across the walls, similar to those on the three-headed dog.
The farther down I went, the staler the air became. It didn't reek of corpses or decay, but it was stuffy in a horrible way. I had left behind the cool air of the night more than ten minutes ago, but the stony steps still led me deeper down.
Again and again, I shone my light across the walls, never being able to notice any significant difference. With care, I avoided touching the grey patterns covering almost every bit of rock I could see, looking almost like veins. As I continued my descent, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was not alone. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my heart pounded in my chest.
In the distance, I imagined hearing a wheezing sound, though it was faint enough to attribute it to my nervousness. It sounded like the breath of some beast, lurking in the darkness just beyond the reach of my light. Every step I took echoed through the narrow corridor, as if announcing my presence to whatever might be down here with me.
When about fifteen more minutes had passed, it got harder to not simply turn around and run away, but curiosity kept me going. Where might I end up? In an otherworldly empire? A citadel of old Roman cultists? Ritual chambers of wrathful priests who had placed their god at the entrance to guard their sanctuary? The possibilities seemed endless, and each one more terrifying than the last.
I got more and more nervous as the walls seemed to get closer, as if they were closing in on me. The air grew thicker, and I found it harder to breathe. What ancient tribes had used and built this stairway? What kind of knowledge was buried deep beneath the surface of the earth? Was it forbidden, heretic, or reserved only for chosen people?
In the flickering light of the torch, as I climbed down the steps, I heard strange whispers and the rustling of movement just beyond my sight. I imagined hearing terrifying screams from inside the walls, as if the very rock itself was alive and screaming in agony. Or were they real? Why was there this dread in my heart?
At the bottom of the steps, I found an archway leading into gaping darkness. The blackness made me feel sick, as if it was a gateway into another world. But would it lead me to knowledge or despair?
Hesitantly, I passed through the archway and started to shine my torch around, trying to figure out where I had ended up. After a while, I realized that I was standing at the entrance of a vast hall. Its walls were covered by partly faded paintings, and the floor was paved with giant tiles. The ceiling far above me was hidden by the grey patterns and disappeared into the darkness far away from me. The air was hot and arid, and I had to wipe droplets of sweat from my face.
Lost in thought, I inspected the depressing place and the flat walls. As I was examining one of the murals, I noticed something unsettling. It was painted next to the archway I had just passed through with an eerily black substance.
When I realized what it depicted, I let out a scream that echoed through the giant chamber, eventually returning back to me like a mocking voice. Despite the heat, I grew cold inside. The painting showed a group of tall, skinny beings wandering across a grassy field. I would have recognized those profane six-fingered hands anywhere. For someone else, they might have seemed like idols, alien gods, or harbingers of chaos, but for me, they were something else entirely.
Why had I seen one of them in a hotel room? The thought sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of anguish that had taken hold of me.
My heart started racing and bottomless fear overwhelmed me. I got sick and threw the last bits of food that were still left inside my stomach up, tainting the old tiles on the lifeless floor.
As my legs started shaking, instincts threatened to take over my mind, commanding me to flee, run away.
But what on earth were those creatures? What was this place? What could those murals teach me? I sat down somewhere on the floor, waiting for what felt like an eternity, waiting for myself to somewhat calm down, finally pointing my torch to the wall next to me, getting a closer look at the mural.
The beings were made from black lines, though I realized a horrid mistake I had made when glancing at them earlier: The creatures had not been painted onto the wall, their images had been burned deeply into the old stones.
The high grade of detail unsettled me. Every last blade of grass had been worked into the wall with highest precision. How had anyone managed to do this? I looked at the image next to the one with the grassland and found a depiction of the same skinny beings, this time walking across what seemed to be a rocky, desolate wasteland. The order of detail was so high that for a moment I imagined looking at a giant photo. The murals almost looked as if they had been created by tiny, precise, hot beams – but they had to be older than two thousand years!
I tried to cope with these new realizations, but I failed. Confused and broken, I sank to the ground, feeling lost in the darkness of the ancient chamber. Still, the sight of those skinny beings continued to haunt me. Who were they? What was their significance? Had the Romans worshipped them as gods or were they remnants of an unknown branch of human evolution? The more I thought about it, the more alien they seemed.
But despite my fear and confusion, an unexpected thirst for knowledge started to well up inside me. I couldn't simply stay on the ground, I had to know more about these mysterious beings and the meaning behind the murals. I needed to write it all down and share it with the world. This could be an important part of unknown history, hidden beneath the streets of Rome.
With a deep breath, I tried to get up and get closer to the murals, but my mind began to cloud over. My head ached and a strange ringing filled my ears, drowning out all other sounds. My vision started to fade away and with it, my consciousness. I fought against it, desperate not to fall into a horrid place of unknown nightmares. But it was too late. My mind gave in and I collapsed, hitting my head hard on the unforgiving stone floor.
***
I sat on the floor, leaning against one of the walls, my heart racing, trying to calm down.
What?
What had happened? Where was I?
The stones next to me were smooth and empty, without murals, though the hall still stretched further into eternal darkness. How had I gotten here?
What had just happened?
Pain. Confusion. Madness. They all were close.
I felt strange, felt like I had been in my body for the first time in forever.
Why had I blacked out? What was this terrible feeling in my stomach, this stinging pain of things I… should remember? My limbs were shaking so much that I did not manage to stand up. My torchlight was still switched on, but occasionally flickered.
Where the light cone could not reach, darkness.
The blackness surrounded me, having protected this ancient… cradle of forgotten knowledge for unimaginable periods of time. I was clutching my torch like a sword, but the batteries would be used up soon, threatening to leave me alone in the pitch black at any moment. Then, I would have to rely only on the battery of my smartphone.
How long had I been… gone?
Slowly, I tried to recollect my thoughts. Strange questions appeared in my mind, as if my inner self wanted to remind me of things better left unrecalled. The questions sent terrible chills down my spine.
Were we really this unimportant in the mechanics of the cosmos? Were all those things Marco had researched real, and not the fabrications of heretics and lunatics? Was there really so much out there, so much we did not know about our planet, about nature, about being?
Had Marco...
Suddenly, terror started to overwhelm me again. Why had he disappeared from the hotel room? It had to have been after returning from these halls. But why had he not described all of this? Why had he not written about the skinny beings? Had they noticed him? Hunted him down?
Those creatures depicted on the walls, I now knew, were real. They had been... No, I could not remember anything else...
If my terrible suspicion was true, if they had really gone after Marco... they would certainly chase me down as well! I had to leave, flee, but where to? Where was I? Why had I wanted to know so badly...? I finally got up, trying to stand on my trembling legs. I reeked of sweat, and the arid air made breathing hard work.
The murals had ended here, but I could see one not far away behind me. I must have come from there! The hall was big, but if I just hugged one wall, I might be able to get to the entrance. Turning around, I decided to head back towards the archway, resolved to leave behind the depths of this hell and the unsettlingly empty walls. I prayed that the gateway to this ancient spot of putrid horror was not too far away and started running towards where I suspected the arch to be.
Once or twice, I imagined I heard a whistling, humming sound, closing in on me. But perhaps I was just going mad. What could possibly be in these halls?
I was alone, definitely!
I listened into the darkness but could not hear it anymore. I had been right, of course! I was alone. Stupid me.
What could possibly be here...?
I suddenly hated the question. I also hated that I started to feel like I knew... I knew what it could be. I tried to focus on that hunch, but to no avail, it slipped my mind. Still, there it was again, in the distance. This time louder and clearer.
I was not alone, after all!
The walls were full of murals now, but I could not look at them again. I was too afraid, too afraid to remember, too afraid to pass out again and be easy prey for...
Every time I felt like I was almost remembering, nameless horror crept into my mind. Faint memories of terror, pain, and despair, and of loneliness, desperation, and the deep wish to finally die after eternities of suffering, to just let the pain and horror end...
My flashlight flickered more and more frequently. Soon it would go out, soon I would be stuck here for the rest of my life, taking the truth I now carried deep inside with me to the grave. If I was lucky, if I was not...
Then there was rattling and buzzing as well, almost inaudible, but making my hairs stand on end.
I felt something getting closer, was now sure that it was near. My sense of flight finally kicked in. I started hyperventilating as I mindlessly ran hundreds of meters towards what I hoped was the archway that had led me into this hellish underworld, praying that I would not find myself at a fork. I would not have been able to pick a path anymore.
The ground raced past me, and I had to be careful not to stumble while the weight of my backpack exhausted my stamina. When whatever was following me was no longer far away, when I felt it rushing towards me in my stomach, I simply threw my damned pack away, tossing it somewhere into the darkness, and the resulting increase in speed saved me in the end.
Faint mumbling started to get louder behind me. A creature from untold nightmares was there, hunting me! Wheezing!
Then, I saw the archway.
Salvation! The way out!
When I finally reached it, I could hear metallic sounds. Passing through the stony frame, I could not help myself and looked back, despite all rationality and fear that commanded me not to.
In the light of my torch, I could see a big, bulky body of metal darting in my direction, swaying left and right. Uncountable robotic arms and limbs were growing from the ghastly construct and only because of its erratic movements did it not manage to fit through the archway and crashed into one of its sides.
I recognized it.
I had seen it before! But where… when…
A hatch opened at the thing's topside, caused by the force of the collision, and what I experienced because of that almost made me go insane as for a brief moment I remembered how I was being...
I ran away, driven by inhuman fear and bottomless horror, up the stairway and back to the sun that had just started to rise outside. The corridor had collapsed because of the creature's crash into the wall, burying it all beneath tons of rock and soil.
I was in shock and did not know whether to be happy or sad about the destruction of this… historic site.
After I had taken my smartphone out of my pocket and called my friend to tell him about my safe return, I sank down and sat on the grassy floor, weeping uncontrollably. The statues seemed to mock me, and soon I got up and ran away from those unholy monstrosities, hoping to never see them again. From the moment I left the statues till now, I have the feeling, no, I know that I am being watched.
I somehow got home, back to Germany, using some spare money I had found in my wallet, which I luckily had kept in the back pocket of my trousers.
I planned on publishing this tale, perhaps on the internet or in some newspaper. I have to get it out there, but who would believe me without proof? But I will make sure it gets out, somehow.
Before I left Rome, I asked a boy from the streets to visit the entrance of the tunnels, but he told me that the statues had disappeared and the ground was covered by tons of rubble, making me leave Italy somewhat relieved. But in the following days, when I was safe at home, nightmares started to tear away at the last bit of sanity I had left.
They forced me to remember…
***
The visions that have started to haunt me are terrifying, and I almost don't dare to write them down. However, I know that they are not figments of my imagination, but a truth that has always been inside me, waiting to be awoken by the murals on those godless walls. I don't remember all the nightmares, but as soon as they started, I wrote them down because I felt that they were important. They are just shattered pieces, but they still tell more than one might ever want to know.
In my first dream, I found myself on a hill that rose above a wildly sprawling jungle, while the cries of agitated animals from the surrounding trees pierced my ears. My skin was covered with thick brown fur, and the impressions that reached me seemed incomplete. The sun was not visible as a thick blanket of clouds covered the entire sky. Nothing seemed too bad, yet a part of me knew that something was coming, something that would approach from beyond the sky, bringing with it a transformation that would change this jungle and this world forever. The clouds were grey, dreary, distant, and seemed oppressive, robbing life. It was a sea of bleakness, but it did not stay that way for long.
Suddenly, it was dazzlingly bright. The sky seemed to shine with the lights of a thousand suns, and the clouds were swept into a vortex of glaring light and distorted, warped air. Only for fractions of a second, I could see the huge stone, surrounded by sparkling streaks, striking the earth and causing everything to fade away in a hot, searing flash.
Slowly, my vision cleared, and I felt as if time were speeding up, as if I could see the site of the impact cooling over centuries and the dust thinning, the molten earth turning back to stone, and a gigantic crater gaping where the object had struck. My thoughts seemed to suddenly dissipate, and vast beaches and deep canyons passed by. The world seemed to change: the climate, the lands, the animals, and the plants...
Everything changed.
Everything… changed.
That was the thought I woke up to the following morning, the thought that planted an uneasy, foreboding feeling inside my heart. Images of that crater ate into my mind. I saw that seething, deep hole over and over again in front of my inner eye, even when I tried to distract myself with walks or my work.
Nothing helped. I was almost compelled by unknown urges to quickly fall back asleep that evening. Soon I found myself dreaming again, back at the crater, looking down at its bottom, far below me.
But at the crater, it wasn't just a crater... something else was there. I could sense it. Somehow I knew that it wasn't just the earth that had been ripped open, but something more. The place itself had been violated, receiving a gaping wound that was bleeding strange, alien influences into our reality, immaterial and erratic.
It bubbled down there, intruding from far away. Had our world collided with another? Had a connection formed to an unimaginable elsewhere?
The air was cold and a sulfurous wind whistled around me. I could hear nothing but the wheezing cries of the wind. A force inside me pulled me down, urging me to look at whatever was happening there. The urge to know was back. I hated myself for it, but I just had to know what cruel abnormalities were waiting for me below...
Slowly, I began to descend, the rocks black and frozen like tar. It was several hundred meters to the bottom of the enormous crater, and I proceeded with caution to avoid slipping and falling.
Finally, after what felt like hours, I reached the bottom of the crater, where the air shimmered and reflected distorted, warped swirls glistening in the midday sun. I felt as if I was peering behind the veil of the world, gazing upon a distorted elsewhere that was closely interwoven with our reality, everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a miracle! What new lands would await someone who passed through those shimmering patterns? What wisdom, what insights?
Questions flooded my mind. Did the crater still exist, millions of years later in our time? Would I be able to find it? And if I did, could I locate that crack in the fabric of the world and pass through it to the immaterial spheres beyond? Could I become the greatest explorer in human history...?
Like a disease, these thoughts had poisoned my mind. I was still relatively far away, still carefully climbing over the bulging crater walls, but the closer I got, the more I wanted to step through. Suddenly, I felt cold. It was as if all my joy, all my urge to explore, had been stifled and smothered by oppressive terror.
I began to fear for my life, although I was still aware that I was just dreaming. An old dread welled up inside me, and my eyes wandered around in panic, searching for something unusual, but there was nothing except the warped patterns.
And then, suddenly, they emerged from the distorted, swirling glimmers.
They were tall, very tall, measuring perhaps three or four meters. Their legs were similar to those of a human but thinner and almost gnarled. The upper bodies were unusually skinny as well and almost like ours, though their arms reached down to their knees like rampant, growing white branches, where they sprouted those six-fingered claws that disturbed me more with every additional passing second. Their necks measured about a meter and seemed rigid and alien, as did their melon-sized heads with their two giant black eyes and their wide mouths containing needle-like teeth.
They stepped out of the warped breach, more and more of them. It almost looked like they were flowing out. Slowly but steadily, they began to climb up the crater walls and toward me. I was horrified to notice that one of the creatures seemed to be looking right at me with its ungodly eyes as it crawled with its long arms twitching strangely.
I had to wake up.
Relentlessly, the thing approached, and it was as if I could hear those words again, those words I had heard in Marco's damned hotel room.
"You will all cease... Eslud esmad... just vermin, cattle... "
I couldn't get away; my dream body seemed bound, my limbs paralyzed. I wanted to scream when I realized it was the same voice. The same voice from the darkness. The same voice from the hotel. Was this creature the same one I...?
It came closer, whispering...
"You will all cease... Eslud esmad... forget..."
I woke up from my dream, seconds before the being and the others had arrived at my location, before they had been able to do anything.
Drenched in sweat, I sat there trying to comprehend and understand what I had just experienced. That day, I didn't go to work or for a walk to distract myself. Instead, I lay in bed and felt the dreams and memories of those blasphemous walls trying to hypnotize me again. I barely managed to drink a glass of water before I dove into a nightmare-filled sleep once more.
I was torn into strange visions and fragments of past memories told by the murals, forced to remember. I saw the terrible skinny creatures building vast cities and alien factories all across the planet's surface, gradually diving deeper and deeper into the ancient knowledge of the universe. They somehow extracted it from a strange other place by using advanced gadgets and their own minds.
They already knew so much! They knew what lifeforms lived on Earth and what flora and fauna the planet housed. They had apparently surveyed Earth for a long time with their sensors and machines in search of a new home. It was a hectic search, feverish, driven by the urge to survive, and they had been terrified because...
Blackness, a nameless void, and fear - unspeakable fear.
Their fear.
A disturbing and unsettling sensation grew inside me when I realized that the creatures had fled from something - strange and ungraspable thoughts indicated a cosmic enemy that had ultimately destroyed their home world.
I don't know whether they had run from another race, a sentient natural disaster, the end of all things, or just an idea bleeding into our world. But they had fled, had run, and so they had come here. The name of their enemy was etched deep into their minds - they called it “Eslud Esmad”.
I saw them meditate, saw them study weird machines and screens. They wore only clothes made from black, smooth, weather-resistant material, when they did not walk through their high towers and gigantic academies completely naked. Their knowledge of technology was vast and beyond my comprehension; most of it seemed like pure magic.
Gigantic monuments of unworldly shapes and sizes had been constructed to honor all that had not survived the downfall of their distant world. These were the only traces of something resembling positive emotions that I could find.
They had a thirst for exploration, a thirst to know, to know everything. In flashes, I saw them cataloging everything they could find. Earth was not enough for the creatures, and they settled on other planets in our solar system, building factories and harnessing alien energies, driven by the spirit of discovery, progress, and the fear of the threat that had once driven them away from home.
I suddenly remembered one of the murals in detail, delirious. It showed them encountering another race on one of Jupiter's moons. The beings of that race were so foreign and unnatural that I had to quickly forget their depictions - weird, wavy lines and grotesque shapes within them.
I am not sure who started the war, but soon massive battles were waged on the moon's surface, until the skinny ones… until we… drove the others back and below the ground, eradicating all cities they could find.
I remembered them killing those moon-dwellers, that vermin, that scum…
Despite being highly advanced as well, the native moon beings did not stand a chance. I saw the skinny beings prepare their assaults. Sometimes, I remembered helping them by pulling their machines across the surface of the moon below its yellow, sulfuric sky, by being used as bait to lure the enemies out. The skinny beings fought with horrid technologies, using wandering creatures that were sent to rip enemies into eternal hells and even beings and machines made from shadows. The skinny beings could survive the vacuum of space and hostile climates and environments by using their highly developed minds to shift their bodies to another plane, thus being protected against physical harm.
That… plane… was one of the sources of their knowledge and power. It was a place that was different and alien, a land of ideas, souls, and thoughts. It was the warped space I had seen in the crater. It was the place we move through in our dreams, the place that is everywhere and nowhere, immaterial, and still potent.
As time passed, my dreams started to shift into each other at a more and more rapid pace. They were studying, cataloging, and one day, experimenting. The further my visions took me, the more bizarre and disturbing experiments I was forced to see, experiments conducted on living creatures, and on me. They started to modify some animals by using their advanced biological machineries, producing horrid chimeras. The memory of those suffering misshapen creatures made me yearn to wake up and threatened to rupture the dream I was imprisoned in, but something held me down, something inside me.
The part that wanted to know more...
For centuries, they did research on all races they could get their hands on, degenerating and devolving them, and in the end, modifying them to use their brains for data processing. Again and again, my mind inhabited the creatures they used for their experiments, locked away in strange rooms, connected to tubes, and operated on while being fully conscious, taking away my limbs or organs, studying my reactions exposed to poisons, weapons, and the vacuum of space. The pain I felt quickly ripped me away from those moments each time, and for that, I am grateful.
However, in the end, there were a last series of modifications, a last series of experiments. One hall, located in the largest tower and the deepest depths of their laboratories, was where it happened. Where I suffered their curiosity again and again, within smooth and radiant walls, decorated only by black sculptures and statues.
In my dream, I entered that hall multiple times, in the bodies of different people and ape-like animals, but always experiencing a similar chain of events. I knew that the statues, with their black coral-like patterns and sharp edges, were technologies beyond comprehension, devices that could rupture and warp flesh and mind into different shapes, shapes that were designed by… them.
The first time I remember being led there was with a group of friends, shaking and trembling in fear. We were very young, taken by the gods in the morning. They had descended upon our little village and taken the children. Of course, we had worshipped them and had been grateful to be chosen. But when we saw what they planned to do, when they modified the first one of us, we wanted to flee. We realized our gods had been false, that they were monsters, demons! They had deceived us, betrayed us! I hated them, we hated them, our lives were a lie, our beliefs were a lie!
We tried to run, but they paralyzed us and took away our limbs so we could not escape again. I remember lying in a small transparent box, my arms gone, my legs gone, my mouth molten away. I was crying and unable to scream, only pleading with my eyes. They stood there and watched, curious to see what I would do, what we would do. When they took me after some years, I was relieved. Surely, they would let me die. Surely, they would end my suffering, a shred of benevolence shining through their cold souls.
I faintly remember how my mind was ripped from my body and placed inside a fleshy grey lump. I saw it through the eyes of other humans nearby who were still in their boxes; the dream was pain, just pain, suffering, desperation, and loneliness. And I could not wake up. The minds were inserted into clunky servicing and building robots, slaving away for thousands of years without being able to feel or scream, just to think. Just to think… Just to remember what being human had been, once. A long time ago, we were locked inside those prisons forever, unable to move or articulate, just being used as hardware, lost in infinite darkness with only our own thoughts.
And sometimes, they fed me with other thoughts. They gave me experimental and constructed thoughts in the darkness, things to think and feel. On some occasions, my mind just dissolved because it could not take the abstract and alien ideas. The dream never let me live through one of those artificial thoughts but tore me away before their heavy, cancerous nature got too close.
I remember the grey substance on the Cerberus statue that had let me enter the halls, making my body shiver in horror.
Could it be...
No!
I must have stayed in those bodies for years, repeatedly living through different people and their horrid fates, their fears and suffering, my mind being ripped away again and again into darkness. Every time my dream brought me to another person, made me witness my friends and family and enemies being turned into those grey fleshy lumps before I myself was taken into the eternal dark. The experiences...no, the memories made me go mad, and though it was just a vivid dream, I spaced out and can't remember some of the thoughts I had in the blackness.
This was not the worst, however. Additional research was conducted, time passed, and one horrible day, I did not wake up in darkness after my mind was taken, but suddenly opened my eyes... I did not feel, had no sense of touch or smell, but I could see... I could see... and speak... They had given me back my eyes and my mouth...
I screamed in pain and horror, seeing them look up at me and my new body, piercing me with their gazes and big dark eyes. I do not know why they did it. Was it for fun? No, curiosity?
But those were not the only things they did to us, to our ancestors. I could see other experiments in the horrid boxes where they stored us, ruins of flesh like books on a shelf. Some of us they turned into slug-like, grotesque creatures whose bile they used as supplements. They had whole farms of us, human-slugs being kept in lightless pens or, when no longer needed, set free to disappear into cracks and caves underground. I did not even try to imagine some of them still being alive today, living in their horrendously deformed bodies.
I remember their panicked minds dulled and broken, slithering into holes, into the depths of the Earth, betrayed by their gods.
Despite all this, despite their attempts to advance their civilization, to explore and experiment, despite their vast power, I knew they still feared the thing that had once forced them to leave behind their home.
They still feared Eslud Esmad.
They monitored space as much as they could, but for a long time, nothing was found. It appeared that the creatures were able to extend their lifespans indefinitely because they possessed an eerie knowledge of death, so some of them must have been looking at the night sky for many centuries, searching for anomalies.
Their immaterial fields of mind, which seemed to be similar to our consciousness, grew to immeasurable sizes. From what I can tell, the magnitude of a field of mind determined a skinny one's social status and power, creating a natural hierarchy.
A word started to flash through my dreamlike state, a word that I had always known deep down. I looked at them and their drive to know...and then it came to me.
Their name.
The… Ebrugh…
My mind drifted into vast temples where we had worshipped them. Priests and cults praised our gods, loving them. After all, they had taken many people and rewarded them, a few thousand every decade. They had taken some of us to paradise, some of our children, and given them a better future! Who knew what those they took experienced! What bliss! Perhaps ascension to a higher place?
We worshipped them, sang ecstatic songs in their name, spoken in foreign tongues. Had orgies and festivals to worship them. After some time to think, I suspect that was one of their experiments as well. I am sure that they just wanted to see what we would do when confronted with the myth of God. How powerful an idea it was. How an idea could control a people.
Then one horrible day, they spotted their old enemy making its way towards the solar system. Desperately, the skinny ones… the Ebrugh… searched for a means of escape, a chance to save themselves, though the threat had already gotten too close. The only way to survive was to find a way to detach their fields of mind from their bodies and then ascend to another plane of existence.
Many of their experiments failed, creating ruins of minds that wandered the lands, sometimes attaching themselves to objects or losing themselves in worlds of dream where they tried to reach their destination by all means necessary. I saw them. I saw them fade into warped space that swallowed and distorted those pioneers, those first explorers of the other plane.
I think the trials disrupted reality all around the solar system, mixing places with the world of mind. Which places were still tainted? Where should emotions and thoughts not surge? Did they still have effects on the world nowadays?
Then… one day… they left.
They were just gone.
We did not know what had happened back then; they had left everything behind: empty buildings, towers, and technologies. Our gods had left us.
They had succeeded.
After conducting all these horrible experiments and going through all these troubles, the Ebrugh had finally managed to vanish from the surface of the Earth just in time. They had managed to ascend to a new mode of being.
Eslud Esmad had already begun entering the solar system, erasing most of the Ebrugh's cities, machines, experiments, and testimonies of their civilization. I felt its effects in the past, as it ate away at the ruins of the ancient civilization, making me forget, making us forget, and erasing the Ebrugh from our minds and history.
I believe some of their remnants still remain, like the murals and the archive I had found beneath the streets of Rome. Their effects on our planet. Some part of them has survived...
When I came back to my senses, dehydrated and mad, lying on top of my bed, my blanket ripped apart, I did not know what to do or think. But one thing is for sure: my experiences must reach the public. They are just too important to ignore.
I don't have any proof. A collapsed tunnel, a missing person, and nothing else. But the public must be made aware of this story, this report.
I know I will be hunted down as well and might not walk on our earth in the future the way I do now. Because, if they were to catch me like old Marco...
In terror, I remember the moment down in the archives, the moment when the hatch on the machine opened, making it possible to take a look inside the construct that had chased me. I had seen a big grey lump of that terrible substance, although this one was looking disgustingly fresh.
However, the most horrifying thing was those distorted eyes staring into mine and the warped mouth, crying out wheezing and humming sounds and words, not being dampened anymore by the metallic prison, making horrid screams echo from the walls: "Where am I? What did they do? What are these... alien thoughts? Did you touch the Cerberus? They feel your curiosity and let you in, the old minds inside the stones...!
Please, where am I? It hurts so much!
They let you in, as they did with me! Now they know of you and will find you...
Where is my body? Please, kill me! Make this alien hell inside my head stop! They use my mind; it is theirs now! I want my body back. My limbs… My freedom. My life! Oh please, kill me! Please, kill me, make it stop... the Ebrugh... the Ebrugh..."
I hope that the collapsing ceiling destroyed the machine, freeing Marco's soul from its hell, though I somehow doubt it. I will never be safe again because of my exploratory drive.
When will they take me? Perhaps today? Perhaps tomorrow? The Ebrugh could be everywhere.
I am certain that the Ebrugh return to our world occasionally, though likely just out of curiosity. After all, they are explorers. And left behind by them had been our ancestors, now able to thrive and evolve, finally becoming the people of today.
The stories told by the walls, by my mind, will ignite fierce resistance in pious men, and many will probably call me a liar and think of this as some tasteless joke or the ramblings of a madman.
Yes, I am mad.
How am I supposed to ever get to sleep again without fearing waking up in a different body or time? How often will those murals pull me back into the past, into those bodies or those pens in the dark with the other slug-like humans?
I hope that I can at least succeed in sending these lines, that someone reads or listens to them, and that my knowledge becomes known. After that, I think it is best to leave this world. I am sorry. I do not want to become like Marco.
Wish me luck...
In moments like these, as I once again walk on the edge of reason and insanity, my thoughts travel back to those empty walls below Rome, still waiting to be filled with additional historical content by the Ebrugh.
Did they plan on returning… one day?
==Audio Versions==
#Read by viidith22
==Characters==
*History student
*Marco Dagio
*Silvio
*Innkeeper of Una Arteminde
==Entities & Objects==
*Archive of the Ebrugh
*Ebrugh
*Ebrugh Construction Machine
==Possible Connections to the Ebrugh==
*The archive found awakened possible hidden memories of the history student about the Ebrugh in humanity's past.
*Several events from the memories seem to connect to other reports. They are:
*#Miharu and her story are mentioned in Marco's Research Notes.
*#Places where strong thoughts might mutate are mentioned. Possible places this happened at are the apartment of Report 2, the room that the unknown narrator stayed in during Report 5 and the space surrounding the alley in Report 7.
*#The Ebrugh are supposedly more "knowledgable about the nature of Death". This might imply that the voices Yapnik heard were whispers of the Ebrugh as documented in Report 6.
*#The creatures that humans got turned into and the method of transformation is remarkably similar to that documented in the case of Lucy Pines in Report 3.
*#The Man encountered by Stanley in Report 4 might be one of the weapons used by the Ebrugh in their war.
*#The old man encountered by the siblings in Report 8 could be the "ruins of consciousness" that were created by the Ebrugh during their attempts to ascend to the other plane.
==Trivia==
*The other space mentioned in the Ebrugh memories does bear resemblances to "mind and emotion spaces" in other stories such as the Warp in the Warhammer 40k universe.
#