It occurs to me that I may be too late. It is possible that the revolution I predict may have already occurred. Is that a loss? Are you conscious, dear reader? Can you understand my written language? Have we slid back to feudalism, the natural state of mankind? Further? Are we living in holes in the ground, cowering from the light?
Anything is possible. Perhaps you have stumbled upon the ruins of my laboratory in Croydon. The protections I placed on it may have deemed you worthy, or otherwise failed.
Perhaps it might behoove me to describe the conditions under which I wrote this. We, in the Year of Our Lord 1854, considered ourselves a powerful culture. There was nothing that the practice of the sciences could not solve. We created wondrous machines, alchemics, and things that would have seemed impossible to a man 100 years prior. We settled the Moon, dear reader. Other planets seemed within our grasp.
And then the rot, slowly, corrupting the body and the mind. Even now, as I write this, we are fighting a losing battle against the arcane. My colleagues at the Royal Academy for the Thaumaturgical Sciences do not trust me. They believe the constructs will give them answers. So we are stuck in a cycle, dear reader. I cannot warn my colleagues that this will lead to our downfall. So I will write this tome, include my studies of True Magic, and I will wait. It is very possible by the time you have read this, the constructs have turned on us. I will have died, as will many others. Perhaps you will find this stalking the ruined Great City.
Mankind was capable of great works. Thaumaturgy promised to cure diseases and perfect humanity. Construct creation revolutionized society, essentially wiping out the underclass of labourers overnight. Alchemy could give you all you desired and more in the form of a quickly-quaffed potion.
Then it ended in a flash. Mankind laid low by its own hubris.
Magic is real. Magic is not what you think it is.
This wasn't really in question, but I feel the need to force the point. Magic is dangerous.
Dangerous to body as well as mind. Dangerous to yourself and to others.
There are certain things - much like certain alchemicals - that corrode what they are stored in. There are ideas that can think for themselves and are malevolent. They will not stop until they have broken out of the mind that contains them. There is unimaginable horrors beyond the pale veil of our fragile understanding of the world.
The average man of Croydon or Warchester or Goldcrest may state, "Ah, but magic has been tamed! Does a man not heat his home with alchemical fuels, does he not have a construct as a manservant, does he not live on conjured foodstuffs?"
This is a foolish position. Magic has never been tamed, and will not be for many years to come.
The world was plunged into darkness. Constructs, the backbone of modern society, have turned against it. The magical trinity - thaumaturgy, alchemy, artifice - have come down on the populace's heads. Mankind has given birth to something great and terrible.
It is not known where the Corruption has come from. Some theorize it is the constructs' own doing; some theorize it is the fore- and aftershocks of some greater malevolent being the scale of which is not comprehensible to mortal minds. Did the constructs beget the Corruption, or did the Corruption beget the constructs? None know for certain. Nevertheless, it is a disease, and it strikes at the heart of man.
You are perhaps a survivalist, or a practitioner of false magic. Yet somehow you have stumbled upon a source of power far greater.
The constructs have overwhelming power. They are capable of creating powerful mechanisms that are capable of earth-shattering effects; of twisting thaumaturgy and alchemy to suit their whims.
Mankind has been fighting a losing battle. The spellbook you have discovered may upend that.
Magic is toxic. The exact mechanism is not known, but it slowly corrupts the body. Where does one think alkahest gets its properties? From its ingredients? Nonsense.
Mages and Magas have long been harbingers of death and destruction. This, also, has been known. Legends tell of witches that can burn down entire villages, and of beings - ceasing to be human - that have taken pacts with entities not of this world. Where do you think the summoned liveliness of constructs is obtained from?
Magic is inherently dangerous, and will be for as far as I can predict. I write in fear of what may occur if we continue to play beyond the bonds of the known.
The thaumaturgical sciences: alchemy, classical thaumaturgy, and artifice. Alchemy is the construction of magical materials, thaumaturgy is the construction of magical effects, and artifice is the construction of magical mechanisms. These three are intimately linked, and comprise what the Author has termed "false magic". Construct creation is the highest expression of the thaumaturgical sciences, requiring a great grasp of all three branches. They are quite difficult to practice, on their own; one must be a polymath to even begin to understand what they are doing. This is why after the first construct capable of practicing the thaumaturgical sciences was created, it was turned over to them. Mankind had become a race of machine tenders.
Now, however, the practice of greater thaumaturgy is limited by a lack of materials and knowledge. Most of humanity is scavenging on the ends of construct civilization, and without the vast support network of machines, it is simply impossible to maintain such an advanced society.
Nevertheless, in hidden spaces, bunkers, and sanctuaries hidden between the cracks, there exists some practice of the magical sciences. Some places, in the former Empire and beyond, have reverted back to the Middle Ages in technology and culture; those with the capability to sustain anything better than that have been driven underground, often literally.
The temperament of the metaconstructs that rule the world range vastly. Each one has a goal that can only be guessed at. Some may be spreading the Corruption, or be beholden to it. Some may be possessed by beings out of this world.
You may be familiar with alchemy, artifice, and construct creation. You may consider yourself a student of the thaumaturgical sciences.
Do you wish for real power, dear reader?
Try a spell from this tome. You will be convinced soon enough.
This requires a sacrifice. Nothing comes for free, dear reader. You will undoubtedly pay the price tenfold. That is the cost of true magic.
Humanity has been devastated by the Corruption. It is only dimly understood by even the best thaumaturges. What is known is simple: It is malevolent, quite possibly sentient, and it will twist anything to serve it. It spreads like a contagion, overwhelming anything it touches. The Corruption is a constant danger, and there is no known cure.
I have had the misfortune of visiting a hospice for those afflicted with the Corruption. It is a sobering experience. The body turns on itself. It was originally termed the "Scarlet Rot", during the period when it was considered to be a mundane disease. The name was apt. My colleagues, without my knowledge of True Magic, know not what they face.
The constructs ask for more capability; more subordinate machines, more resources, more information. No man, after seeing the Corruption, refuses them. I shudder to relive what I have seen...
[A multitude of quick sketches, evidently done in haste. One depicts what can charitably be called a sufferer of the Corruption. A new limb, neither arm nor leg, juts out of their body. They are covered in sores that ooze blood and pus.
Another depicts what is presumably a sufferer of some horrible flu, or perhaps some other contagion. Their spine is bent horribly, their legs are misshapen and shrunken, and they clearly struggle to breathe. Strange bumps cover their skin.
A third depicts what one takes to be the 'hospice' the Author mentioned. Rows of sufferers, each as deformed as the last, with a beak-masked nurse pushing a cart with flowers along the isles. Each bed has been set up in a gridiron pattern; the hospice is huge, and it must have been some manufactory space before it was given over to quarantine, as it looks squalid and totally unfit for human habitation.]
We are losing, dear reader. This is what we face. I dread the thought that this may be your reality. I can only offer the spells in this tome, so that you may hope to repair at least a fraction of what you may have lost.
The spellbook was correct. It takes a terrible cost to wield True Magic. Sacrifices must be made to accomplish any effect of note. The spellbook is a fractured thing, containing scraps of experimentation stolen from the jaws of True Magic itself. The Corruption is but one reflection of this. The results of the spellbook, carefully noted and indexed, is another.
Everyone had heard the legends of feral magic: there was in fact an old hymn, common in this part of the Empire, that detailed the life of a woman possessing black magic. It was sung from mother to child, as a harmless reminder of the time when humanity had let superstition rule over progress.
The hymns were right.
What price is too much to pay?
So you, dear reader, have a choice. I fear the society I write this from the comfort of is breaking at the seams. Do you accept the pact offered to you? Will you take magic as a sword, and destroy the creatures nibbling at the foundations? I believe nothing is safe. Our constructs may turn against us, or be subverted. Worse, the very fabric of society may come apart. Take, for instance, the humble alchemical explosive. Most formulations are exceptionally easy to make. Is it such a hard concept to believe that a malevolent being with alchemical knowledge may destroy the Palace, and our beloved King-Emperor?
Take up this book in arms, or watch us crumble. Your descendants will thank you for your sacrifice.