Journal #6 of Lazarus Lachance

23rd, August.
Fortune favors me, it seems. I run out of pages on my fifth journal right as I near the hill of Moon Rock. If you are reading this, you are surely a scholar such as myself, so I shall retail the rumors I've heard of this place.
Moon Rock is named as such because of it's odd shape, it sits in the middle of a crater-shaped valley and it seems to be shaped like a ball more than a hill. So deep into this acursed forest, not many travel to see it, but rumors say of a strong force that compels even the strong willed to search it out and climb to the top. I have felt this pull as well, but it preyed upon my lust for knowledge instead of adventure. Though whatever I may find at the top, I am confident it shall not touch me. Enscribed in my previous journal were runes to ward off the darkness of the forest, and they have not failed me so far.

24th, August.
I barely got any rest, I was far too excited for my journey. The view from the lip of the crater is beautiful, however. Unusually windy, though.

25th, August.
I set up camp in a small cave in Moon Rock, and subsequently passed out. I was far too tired, but now I am energized to climb up this rather mountainous hill.
It was certainly tough even getting halfway! There's no footholds, just bulbous layers, similar to a beautiful fat lady I once saw in a tavern. I cleverly attached my climbing pickaxe to a rope and swung it underhandedly with great force, and luckily it swung into something solid for me to simply just grab the rope and climb up! I am giddy with excitement from this daring and dangerous display of intellect, as well as my goal being so close. I shall figure out if this hill is magic or not, I'd sell my soul if it was!

26th, August.
The rest of the climbing was rather easy, and I am at the top. Something strange is here, but certainly nothing magical. It's a stone, about the size of a person. It looks... important. It rests in the middle of the hill, with the tree on one side and a clearing on the other. It seems as if the stone and the tree were swapped, but surely that is just my imagination. Perhaps it's my runes, they are far too powerful for this site. I shall put my journal on the ground and hide the runes, hopefully something will write in it!

Breytaöllu's hand writes once more.
Welcome, Scholar, to my sanctuary! You seek knowledge unknowable, and knowledge not yet learned. Anywhere else, you would be laughed at, but here in my Garden, I shall provide anything. Write, Scholar. The Library of Change is at your whim.

Breytaöllu, I seek to know about you.

Very well. I am the Librarian of the stars, Breytaöllu! In my time, I was shunned for keeping such an extensive library. My mansion was sat upon the top of a hill, and I spent my time writing, researching, and educating. The town that surrounded me grew angry, they were starving and all I gave was my knowledge. The nobility grew angry with me as well, I never attended their parties nor conspired with them about their ridiculous politics.

Did anything happen afterward?

One particularly harsh winter, many of the townsfolk had perished. My library was often crowded with the desperate, begging to stay inside where it was warm because their husband, parents, or children died and could no longer provide. The nobility grew tired with me, and promised the poor with shelter, food, and money if they just set fire to my library. So they did. They were too cowardly to even walk in, they just set fire to the rug in front of the door and left. It spread quickly, and the widows and orphans seeking shelter couldn't escape.

Oh. What happened to you?

I realized there would be no one left to teach if I continued with my apathy, so I locked myself in the basement to draft a trade deal so the town could eat. Soon I heard screaming from upstairs, and it grew more intense as the fire spread. It was an afront to my senses, the screaming only got louder as more flesh was burnt off, and I could smell it all. I was scared, so I locked myself in the secret library hidden underneath the mansion. It was full of ancient books, most of them were even considered cursed. They were valuable, rare, dangerous. I knew the fire would suffocate me in time, so I searched for something that could save me. There was a book called "The Winds of Change" that called to me. It was the ramblings of a madman who spoke about a god that changed everything, even himself. Supposedly, all I needed to do was invoke his name and forfeit my soul to him.

Did you?

There was no other way out of it, so I did. For many minutes I paced around in circles, calling myself stupid for believing in such superstition. But then, Moon Rock fell to earth. it landed on my mansion and became the new hill. The town was decimated as well, seemingly even from history. No one spoke about me anymore, trees grew when I wasn't looking, I was a ghost slipping through the very seams of reality.

I'm starting to feel sick, what's happening to me? Did you do this?

From the moment you existed, you were destined to not be the same. The Winds of Change have passed, and with it, the rest of the world. You, Breytaöllu, are the Prince of Change, the Lord of Difference, the God of Transformation. Nothing beyond the walls of this crater matter now, you must keep our Library. You must write another tale, another explanation, a way for it to all connect. Change cannot be instant.

I understand.