The Hollowed One
 
Codex Fragment II.7
 
“Once he was a man, with a name carried in whispers and prayers. But the Codex devours names first. Now he wanders nameless, his face stretched into a scream that is not his own. To see him is to know the price of reading too far.”
 
The Hollowed One was not born of the grave, but of the Codex’s hunger.
Once a devoted scholar, he thought the pages offered truth. They did, but at a cost no mortal could bear.
His eyes were the first offering, burned white by ink that seared away memory.
His voice was the second, stolen so the Codex could speak through him.
Now, all that remains is a hollow body, animated by something older and crueler.
 
The First Echo — proof that the Codex does not simply record but consumes.
His scream is an omen; those who hear it are marked by the Codex, whether they wish it or not.
He drifts near ruins and graves, places where the veil thins. Some say he searches for his name, though it will never be found.
 
“Hollow mouths speak the oldest truths.”