This book is titled “The Amygamalion – The Four That Are We”. It appears to be a myth concerning the creation of the Amygdalans.
The great world that sets beneath our feet is not the true world. This land is but a false image of what truly is, for we are exiles from our true home. This land is the Dulling, whereas we come from the First Thought. We are made from the First Thought, and we feed upon it as well. We are Amygdalan, and we are from the Source of Amyg. But to know where we are, you must know why we are.
As the Source of Amyg sat upon His mighty throne and gazed upon the First Thought, He would observe the Lesser Emotions infusing their feelings into even lesser versions of themselves. The Great Emotion was not pleased by this sight, for He did not give His approval. Feeling a forbidden emotion, he created from his mind four forms that took shape – Horror, Fright, Dread, and Terror.
His four children were given a part of the First Thought to do with as they pleased. He who is Cazic-Thule would amuse Himself by watching their antics, being far more interested in his realm than the Dulling. The Dulling was the false world that the Lesser Emotions played upon and was beneath the Source of Amyg.
Though the four children existed, they too had nothing to occupy their time with. So again, in the ineffable wisdom of the Source of Amyg, He shaped a lizard into a form not unlike that of his children. The lizardmen offered the Four much to play with now. He who is Cazic-Thule enjoyed watching as they scattered to the four corners of the First Thought, forever fleeing the Four.
Soon the Source of Amyg would watch as the Lesser Emotions would continue making lesser versions of themselves upon the Dulling. To remind them of the greatness of He who is Cazic-Thule, He would make another toy to play upon the Dulling with the other lessers. Soon enough, He would bore of these toys, turning his attention back to the First Thought.
The Source of Amyg desired a new enjoyment, so he created two more children from his mind. Granting more of himself to these new toys, he created the Secondary Thoughts Thought for them to play within. This would not escape the attention of the Four, his first children. They would speak among themselves and decided to go to their father and demand their own realms, as well.
Standing before the Throne of Amyg, the Four would insist they be given more. He who is Cazic-Thule felt pride in his children and told them that he would take them to a place of their own. He took the Four and placed them into his massive hands and squeezed his palm together. Where there were once Four, there was now One. He then squashed the One with his fist, splitting the One into Two, then Four, then Eight, until the number could not be counted anymore. We still bear the mark of the Four upon our face to remind us from where we came.
The Source of Amyg then told the many that they would take the name of what he is. And thus we were named Amygdalan. He would teach us things about who we were through the wisest of our numbers. We would know our four fathers and we would know the Amyg. We would taste many emotions, but we would feed only from fear to honor the Source itself. The lizardmen were our supply, and they would feed us for many eons to come.
Soon enough the lizardmen no longer were able to feed us Amygdalan, for our numbers were many. He who is the Source offered another gift to his children and told us where we could find more amyg to feed from. Listening to His divine wisdom, we created a great ball filled with much amyg. When this ball was done, the Source of Amyg would then send it forward to a place we would call the Dulling.
Much time would pass, and we would remain hungry. From time to time, there would be morsels oozing with all different flavors of amyg that would come to us, but this was never enough to sate our appetites. He who is Cazic-Thule would ultimately tell us that it was time for us to guide ourselves and banished us to the Dulling. Now we stand here where the world is flat and solid. Yet here, within the Dulling, we can feast until our brain-lobes are gorged with pure amyg. Pure fear.