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They had warned you: the power of the gem would corrupt even the purest spirit. Whoever wielded that arcane artifact was able to move time back and forth at his own will, relive the same situations over and over again, changing his behavior each time. If a consequence of an action was not pleased, one could go back and change the course of events as much as possible. After all, one could even avoid death, if he only had the foresight to stop time even a second before the fatal moment. But Zakarim couldn’t make it in time. A powerful and sudden sweep of the blade had torn his head from his neck, causing it to tumble to the ground like a macabre ripe fruit.

Your research, which began many years ago, had come to an end. You had started hearing about the precious artifact when you were little more than a teenager. As a son of traveling merchants, you have always been fascinated by the strangest and most exotic objects. You started jotting down any clues or rumors related to the “Jewel of Cronos” in your travel notebook. You had gathered such a vast array of information that you were convinced it couldn’t just be a tavern legend. There had to be some truth in all of this. Maybe the “Jewel of Cronos” really exists.
In your trades, you have begun to travel further and further east. You wanted to meet the most powerful men of the sultanate. “Such an object - you thought - must be in the hands of an extraordinary person, not just any man”. Crossing the green hills of Hak, you had visited the legendary city of Erim, with its white walls and its tapering spiers culminating in high plumes of shining ivory. Fabulous gardens inhabited by exotic animals adorned the sultan’s palaces. You have stayed a long time in Erim, exercising all your tricks, investigating everywhere, with discretion and intelligence. But, nothing, there was no trace of the “Jewel of Cronos”. No clue.

You had continued eastwards, to the remote steppes of Ulator, where in winter the snow whitens everything and silences your steps in a dull void and where the spring sun changes everything into a humid and inhospitable swamp. After months of walking, you arrived at the furthest reaches of the known land and discovered that nothing existed beyond the endless ocean.

It was many years later, while you were in the black city of Thorm on the remote island of Lanzroth, that you met him. The hope of satisfying your obsession with that miraculous object had never been completely extinguished, it smoldered under the ashes of your everyday life, like a distracted presence. That old beggar must have been watching you for a long time, following you and eavesdropping on you while you were talking to the other merchants in the city. “I have what you are looking for,” he told you. It had already happened to meet a beggar who, to get some copper coins, had bragged that he knew something about the “Jewel of Cronos”. But his eyes - my god! - were so deep and sincere... It was the gaze of someone who has explored the most hidden places of the human soul. “It is a cursed object: whoever owns it is doomed to relive its life far and wide a thousand times. It is a viaticum for madness! Before that hideous power wore me out, I threw it away. If you are still looking for it, go to the most remote part of this island and you will find it. But do it in secret: the man who guards it is obsessed with it to the point of madness and, fearing that you are a thief, he will kill you if he sees you first!”.

And so the gem was there, still clutched in Zakarim’s lifeless fist. The mighty Jewel of Cronos, the quest obsession of your entire life. The old beggar’s words echoed in your head. How was it possible that someone who possessed such an enormous power lived here, in a dirty shack forgotten by the gods? Perhaps, after living his life back and forth thousands of times, he feared someone would steal his precious artifact. Overwhelmed and consumed by this fear, he had withdrawn to the ends of the world, far from all men. What was it like to live for a time beyond the resistance of human flesh? What would it have been like for you to get hold of that legendary artifact? Would you really have gone mad like the old beggar said? Did you have to throw away the precious treasure and bury it forever? You, Illimdus, son of adventurer merchants, could not have known all this. The choice was there, crystal clear, in front of you.

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Heimat Der Katastrophe Milan, Italy

DIY label focused on ambient punk, minimal-synth, dungeon-drone, wartime music and post-nuclear wave. Managed by a creative punx collective from Milano city.

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