The Blinded God
A copy of the letter from Remi Solari, first priest of the Blinded God, to Gellin Gellander, Lord and Minister of War for the Republic of Oritolon, recounting the moment of revelation—
While in Iglavik, I would spend my time in quiet contemplation gazing up at the night sky. Where I am from, there is a place in the sky that we call the Chasm of Heaven. I have heard other cultures call it a tear in the celestial veil, or a great cloud in the heavens. You can see it for yourself. It is an inky black gash which crosses the heavens in the northwestern night sky. Whatever it may be called, I felt my attention being drawn to this place in the sky. With so much time and so little to do in the mountains, I began keeping observations.
It was during my twenty-third observation when I realized that what I previously perceived to be a single crimson jewel crossing the chasm were really three, stationary but blinking, for want of a better word. That is how I recorded it at the time.
It was during my sleep the next night that the revelation came. A voice called to me from the Chasm of Heaven, and in the blackness I beheld three crimson eyes. The voice claimed to be a god who was once powerful and very old, but had been betrayed by another long ago. The god once beheld all that men did through three eyes, and with this knowledge became the envy of his kind, because gods and goddesses are not so different from us in their need to be loved and adored. It spoke of a great struggle in which it was blinded by the daggers of another god in an act of jealous betrayal. Yet even in this weakened state the Blinded God prevailed, while the betrayer and sympathizers fled.
The Betrayer left the Blinded God weakened and unable to gaze upon the acts of man as it used to. Since then, it has regarded our comings and goings through one eye at a time, preserving its limited sight as it searches the heavens for its betrayers—and a way to heal. With evident anguish, it spoke of the many times it had found the Betrayer, only to be overcome with fatigue from its searches. When the Blinded God slumbers, the Chasm of Heaven goes dark. During these times, its enemies elude the far-seeing eyes, seeking out new places to hide.
The Blinded God is patient and cunning, and it knows that with enough time and with new eyes—our eyes—it can find the Betrayer and pluck from its head new eyes. When this happens, the Blinded God's full sight will return, and we will once again enjoy the comfort and protection of its all-seeing gaze.
I understand how this all must read. A country lord goes up to the mountain tops and comes back with tales of celestial gods and cosmic betrayals. I do not count myself to be a superstitious man. Thorough in all I do and with a love for details, I sought out my celestial observations when I awoke and charted the position of the Blinded God's eyes as I recalled them in my dream, and there is no doubt that what I have observed and what was visited upon me are the same. The Blinded God is real, and overjoyed that man has found it in this time of need. Having our attention now, it regards those who help it with great favor. What the Blinded God beholds, it does not forget.