I couldn't move. I couldn't scream. My tape recorder clattered to the ground, still running.
If you find this, and if you're brave or stupid enough to say his name once, twice… don't say it the third time.
His face was the worst. It was a mask of absolute stillness, a porcelain lie over whatever churned inside. And his eyes… his eyes were not eyes. They were two polished chips of absolute darkness, voids in the shape of pupils. vel gendis
"Vel Gendis," I said into the recorder. A test. A data point.
He tilted his head. The movement was slow, mechanical, as if he were relearning the geometry of necks. I couldn't move
Vel Gendis smiled. It was a terrible thing, that smile. It didn't reach his void-eyes. "He got what he wanted. I never died. I never left. And I never disagreed. But he forgot to specify that I would never want ."
"Vel Gendis," I whispered the third time. If you find this, and if you're brave
I am leaving this account where someone might find it. Not as a warning—warnings are useless against the curious. But as a record . Because he was right. He wants to be known. And by writing this, by typing his name again and again, I am feeding him.