Changes

There is no room in the Mansus for the Rider. There are doors, and halls, and places to ride through, paths to follow, secrets carved on the walls in places. Its eyes are vacancies in its face that devour knowledge. What it shall take from it when they are digested, not even the Rider knows. It rides a horse, a camel, a llama, a carriage and even a runaway cart.

==History==

They were to be the sacrifice. Male, female, the performers of the ritual didn't care, those people simply wanted what was within them. The key to the secrets of the tears in reality. The ones who would sacrifice them planned to summon something. A Name, a spirit of the House, it didn't matter. They were going to die. They had been fine when the leader had said it, so gentle, so caring, so false. Now they didn't want to die. Nameless, faceless, they were bound to a slab of stone and an old piece of knowledge crawled from the lips of the ritual's performer, that leader whose words had pushed her here. What were those words? They knew of its kind. A History. Though bound, they remembered it. As all other things faded from mind, that one secret remained. It hurt to hold, but that was better than feeling nothing. They planned to do the work itself with a knife, its sharpness shining with the Edge power thrumming through it. In a single moment, the History grew in her mind, grew and grew and grew, seeking secrets, seeking lore, seeking something, anything, that would prove an answer to the History's questions. For a brief moment, they understood. They took Edge into themselves and broke the binds. Shattered the knife (other history, other world, no.) They ran. Everyone else in the room fell. To them. Who else? More secrets, more lore. It drank of them, sought answers. They would have been a gate, but one of cold flesh and colder blood. They would live as a gate. Outside. Desert, city, forest, no matter. They found a mount. They saddled it, though it might not have a saddle then. The History knew mounts and it became the mount it needed to be in that moment. The Rider's hands were filled with entrails, brimming with futures. Later. First, they ride, and seek out more Histories. More secrets. More...everything.