Entry ??? - Galactic year ???? A.C.

I've come to enjoy surprises. One would think that my planet being vaporized would be the punctuation on my life, but I was wrong.

It was the beginning.

The universe is gargantuan. This is obvious, even a child could tell you as much, but understanding it is another matter entirely. Truly...comprehending the enormity of an entire planet's worth of stories, from billions of people, all living their own lives, forming their own opinions and perspectives from their minuscule slice of life.

Now, realize this holds true for millions of more planets, some bigger, some smaller, populations trillions to dozens. They all have their own lives. Their own thoughts.

Their own souls. And by extension, their very own cores.

And how I love it. I was a researcher before, but my subject matter is nothing compared to the greatest of mysteries, the most excellent of pursuits.

Despite the galactic communities' inability on deciding on a universal term for the energy that defines us, they have agreed on the title for those who seek to understand it.

Scholars.

A simple term, but the entire universe couldn't think of a more apt descriptor.

For all the beholder is omnipotent and omniscient, for all of its terrible power and wisdom, it moves only for two things.

Knowledge and understanding.

As such, we scholars are one of the few peoples to command the gaze of the beholder. It seeks us, reaching for every bit of knowledge we possess. Every single new idea or observation is rewarded with power beyond mortal comprehension. And with it, we rise above, higher than emperors and lesser gods.

But...it is hard to see the intricacies of the soul from our lofty perch. One can't distinguish one ant from another, wouldn't you say? The more we scholars were granted power, the less we could see.

We have studied the strongest of beings, star-devouring whales, gods of entire sectors. We knew what made them, the paths they took to form their cores. The key to unstoppable, unbelievable power was deciphered, made bare through repetition and science.

But power was not the goal. It was a simple consequence, irrelevant. No, the beholder cared for the same things as ever. So, I came to it with an idea, a change of perspective, if you will.

"These worlds that are tested, studied for new stimuli...you still look from on-high, don't you? Even you, in your infinite power, cannot replicate perspective. A pauper sees different than a king, and a king far from a god."

I looked unto that infinite void, and made my pitch. "Why don't we grant the new life-forms eyes in which to see? What could they discover that we can't? What correlations can they draw that we have overlooked?"

The beholder didn't speak. It didn't need to. It simply reached out with one of its endless spires and gave me my answer. At that moment, I became what I am today. I could crush galaxies, see into every known corner of the universe, watch a single animal on a small planet live out its lifespan in a moment.

But I couldn't truly be there. I could only watch from above. I knew why I had been granted these powers, and I set off on my task.

I formed thousands of eyes. You might think that's a significant amount, but there are quintillions of souls being tested as I write this. So I had to choose those most...worthy of them.

It was an invigorating task. I lowered myself as far as I could go, and looked into the lives and souls of tens of thousands of people every second, for decades, giving my gifts to those that proved most promising.

Eyes that could see, and words to guide them.

I think now you might understand what it is you hold in your hands. Or perhaps you do not, and that is fine in its own way. Many of you have died before so much as opening their eyes, but that too is natural.

It is my sincere hope that you share the joy that I still do, even after all these years. Of understanding...discovery, to see the beauty where it hides just out of sight of mortal eyes. It is my belief that only one with that passion can discover what we have not.

Take heed. Trust the one that brought you this journal, for they are agents of my will. Refer to its pages in times of strife and of peace. I will share what I know, and in return, I ask that you do the same.

I will be watching.

-Grand Scholar Helman-

P.S. Tell the jester that he still isn't funny.

The words on the page stared back at me, the same as ever. I've read this passage over and over since I first opened the book on that rooftop where my life found meaning.

It...said a lot, really. The sheer scale of the events unfolding was mind-boggling, enough to send every major religious leader on suicide watch. And yet, it was so, so simple.

No politics, no drama, no real meaning other than power and curiosity. And I appreciated that. More than anything. Helman's thoughts mirrored my own. Maybe that was why I received these gifts in the first place.

I've yet to read another passage. Power permeated through the book, held back by bonds beyond comprehension. The page I read was smack-dab in the middle of the book, though I suspect it doesn't have 'pages' so much as it has 'concepts'.

No matter how much tension I feel, words can't hurt me. I mustered my courage and turned the 'page'.

A giant fucking spider leaped from the pages towards my face. I later recognized this as a goliath birdeater, the biggest of its kind.

But at that moment I was too busy squealing like an orc, flailing desperately. That failed to stop it from landing on my face.

"Are you okay?" asked Goro, genuine concern on his face, a far cry from the ridicule I expected.

"Naw, man. I'm pretty fucking far from okay."

Goro scratched his head awkwardly. "...It was pretty big."

"That's what she said."

He nodded, slowly, ignoring me. "...I didn't think they could get that hairy."

"That's what she said."

The angry silence made me feel a little better.

I sat at my desk chair, staring at a book lying innocently on the table, a crude drawing of a jester raising a middle finger written on the page. Goro, staring at the hairy pile of gore painted against the wall.

I started to speak, if only to break the silence. "I think I'll make sure you're by my side when I read this thing. I shudder to think of what kind of pranks I'll have to suffer through in the future."

Goro nodded again. "Probably a good idea."

I slowly, gingerly reached for the book, and opened it once more.

Entry 12 - Galactic year 3245 A.C

A common school of thought, pursued by many of my fellow scholars, is that the cores correspond to the temperaments and emotions of the owners.

I'm not entirely sure if that's the case. Or, if it is, then it's far more complicated than a mere reflection of base instincts.

There are as many types as there are creatures in the universe, but most tend to conform to standard patterns. After all, uniqueness cannot exist without commonality. The majority of cores are spherical, intuned, or inclined to specific elements.

And those elements are largely consistent, even across the cosmos. Ice, fire, wind, water, lightning, etc etc. Most individuals that you find will be able to manipulate those elements, embody them in their own personal ways.

But those are just the standard, the garden variety if you will. There are far more that are one of a kind, beyond classification. Concepts outlandish and ethereal, shapes twisted in geometric nightmares.

And yet, as mentioned before, they almost always conform to the individual. Fire is passion, wind is freedom, lightning is speed. The personality, the drive, and the soul almost always match the core. As such, it is widely agreed on that the cores indeed come from personality.

I believe this to be untrue, the same core types apply even in species and cultures that have wildly different concepts of community and mortality. I have seen creatures with clear, righteous cores devour swaths of recently birthed sentient creatures, and those with twisted paths lead entire planets to prosperity.

Yet, I understand why we define it as we do. Most of the higher races follow the same standards for community and culture, and understand lies and love in much the same way. Within those boundaries, the consistency of our assessments is impossible to ignore. Almost every single individual falls within their predicted behavioral patterns using nothing but their core to judge.

It is obvious. The personality traits are a symptom, not a cause. But my fellow scholars would rather have an answer for the questioning masses, instead of admitting their ignorance. They prefer pride to knowledge.

But I will not give up. I must understand. What is the correlation? What is the origin? The cause?

The reason?

I must confess that I am rather gladdened by the multitude of questions that I have, and avenues of study available to me.

After all, a universe with no questions would be boring indeed.

-Initiate Scholar Helman-

"No problems?" asked Goro.

"Nope," I said, closing the book slowly.

"I'd be interested in reading it," he said. "But I can't."

I raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fact that the cover of the book was now a magazine for single moms. "You can't read?"

"The pages are blank for me."

I looked back at the clearly visible words. "Huh. Interesting."

He shrugged. "Anything useful?"

"Sure," I said, taking another look at his soul. Pure passion, solid as could be. It roared through him, enriching every fiber of his being.

But when I looked into Goro's dead, bored eyes, passion was the last thing I saw.

He was detached, only interested in expressions of violence. He just acted whichever way would justify it. Be it a hero leaping into action, or being subservient to a man he judged to be in the center of violence. Perhaps that was his passion?

No. I didn't understand him. But I would.

"Are you done staring?" he asked.

"I suppose," I said, standing up. "We've both gotten enough sleep. It's time to check out the second floor."

Goro gave his sword a look-over. "You sure you can handle ghosts?"

I scoffed, walking to the door. "I'm not afraid of anything."

I pretended not to notice him glancing at the stain on the wall.