'It is the curse of mankind to court myth. From the annals of prehistory, when our ancestors gathered around the fire, until we outgrew our world and sought others, venturing so far our own Earthly past became a distant fairytale. It is through myths we divine our universe, our society, ourselves.

 

There are those of us who make a career of it. The storytellers, of course, with their words of tongue and screen and pen, and the archaeologists. Archaeologists strive to uncover the stories long buried by time. For we are the detectives of history, investigating lost sagas of the highborn and lowly, the epic and the mundane; it’s all the same to us.

 

Truth is our objective: ostensibly, the antithesis of myth. And yet, what is it that drives us? Is it truth, or the idea of it? The data we glean from broken crockery and old bones, what is it but a narrative we fashion out of what remains? Reanimating reality into its own form of myth in the necromantic ritual known as the study of antiquity.

 

So truth is the soul of myth, and myth the vessel of truth. But she is a pernicious temptress. For an archaeologist of the modern age, there is one word she will use above all others to lure them in, one mystery so vast in its reach and perplexing in its origin it has become synonymous with the impossible:

 

Morzebór.

 

'Perhaps, in our obsession with myth, we should have heeded her warnings.’

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