The House Pointing to the Locked Bridge
Somewhere with in the vast lands of Yigg, on a silent river bank lay a house; a house uninhabited for many aeons, possibly since the dawn of time. This house was of an eery nature, the winds, when they did seldom come, got caught on the old crumbling tiles and whistled an unsettling tune. Yes, this house was one you would tell stories of to your children, and they to their children. This house was one of legends.
And on this same silent river bank, rests a bridge; a mysterious and forbidden bridge. At the foot of this bridge are grand gates, ones crafted from impeccable ironwood, and resting on these gates was a sole lock. This lock would not open by any means, prying it open was impossible, for this lock was unbreakable, as if enchanted by a great magician from ages past. Many have tried to get onto the bridge other ways, such as traversing the cold and frigid waters below, but a fog overcame them all, and they were never seen again. This fog was always present, this fog hides all that is beyond the impassable gates. This fog is the guardian to ancient, eldritch information, and in turn, this fog was the guardian to the human race.
No doubt something of unearthly nature lingers beyond these gates. Something that if revealed to the feeble human mind, would be the end of all thought. Genius would be replaced with dullness. Life would be replaced with death.
But humanity’s curiosity is a plague, an always growing problem, and the fog won’t be able to protect us forever. We will eventually un-earth the resting grove of new knowledge, we will eventually discover things we were never supposed to know. We will eventually discover the secrets of life, and of course, the secrets of death.
And that, is simply too much.