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everything?”
    Lord Erik nodded. “Yes, but they could not use this vast knowledge. It’s like seeing someone else’s dreams. The words and images and feelings are there, but if you cannot relate them to your own life, they are mostly meaningless. People can comprehend only what they already know.”
    “So the gods and goddesses gave away their essence for nothing?”
    “Not entirely. Of all the thousands of people who had been blessed with the total knowledge of all times, there was a special group of prophets who managed remarkably well. These were scholars, men already possessing vast knowledge. On top of that, they were also wizards, people born with a tinge of divine blood and capable of tampering with the sources of elements.
    “The wizards could unravel the mysterious divinations far better than most others. They also let their pupils study the prophecies, which sometimes helped pinpoint the location and time of the events. Still, many prophecies remained completely unsolved. It was said that people would be able to decipher them only when what was foretold was actually happening, if not afterward.
    “When the Age of Sorrow ended, the prophets became a liability. Mere words started horrible wars. Fearing another catastrophe, the gods urged their followers to put to death all of the prophets so that the divine knowledge would not be misused. The loyal wizards knew they had been betrayed and that their end was coming soon. But before they perished, they decided to do one last thing. They had their vast knowledge committed to writing. When it was done, the master wizards killed all their apprentices and young wizards and finally themselves, burying with them the truth of their deed. This grim, blood-soaked work became known as The Book of Lost Words.”
    “And you have it, Grandpa,” was all Rob managed to say.
    “It’s a literary masterpiece,” Lord Erik said in a lighter tone. “Reading the book is great fun, if one does not try to solve the mysteries of the divinations. These prophecies are very dangerous and best left alone. It’s much better if one reads them as pure prose.”
    “Do any prophets live today?” Rob asked, intrigued.
    “No one really knows. There are always people who would claim this or that, but no one can tell for sure. There are madmen all about, preaching and foretelling doom, but no one really takes them seriously, especially since most people today have never heard of the real prophets.”
    Rob was silent, contemplating. Lord Erik was proud of his grandson. The boy had a sharp mind. His ability to soak up new information, even difficult adult ideas, seemed limitless.
    “Can I read one of the prophecies, please?” the boy asked finally.
    Lord Erik looked uneasy for a moment. His grandson was just mastering his letters. He was eager to try his new skill. The old man was not really sure if Rob should be reading on his own just yet, but it would not hurt. No, it would not hurt.
    He opened a page at random and held the book in front of the boy. Then, he hesitated. “Now, Rob, I told you no one must copy this book. But languages evolve over time. Words lose meaning. Things and places and people change. So how do you think the book remains relevant?”
    The boy’s eyes were wide as he fantasized the answer. “Because…because it’s written in magical words, Grandpa?”
    Lord Erik felt immensely proud. “Yes, Rob. The men who wrote the book knew that if they let people make copies, with time, changes and errors would creep in, translations would be made, some good, some bad, and eventually, no one would remember the original meaning. And so the book is written in the divine language so everyone can understand it, no matter what corner of the world they come from. And the original message never gets lost.”
    “Really?” The boy looked pleased.
    Lord Erik nodded. “Here you go.”
    Rob’s lips moved as he read slowly, frowning. The Book of Lost Words was difficult, even to