"In the migrainous straits of deep sleep, there is a marsh where candle-flames buzz like wasps."
WARNING: Beyond this point lie spoilers for Fallen London's most infamous storyline: Seeking Mr Eaten's Name. Turn back now.
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"Who is Mr Eaten? A good question. Not a wise one." (If you find the answer to this, you'll wish you didn't know.)"I have so often been consumed."
Mr Eaten is an ancient, mysterious emptiness, a voice, a hunger. <choose uncached=""><option>Something is wrong here.</option><option></option></choose> The circumstances surrounding his death, during the fall of the Third City, continue to cast a shadow over events in the Neath. Almost all of the who, what, and why surrounding this creature are waterlogged in mysteries so deep that they drown even the most resilient of enquirers. One thing is known, however: a reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely. <choose uncached=""><option>Do you hear the well calling?</option><option></option></choose>
"The light on the edge of sleep was mine. I was Mr Candles. I will not be again."[1]
St. Arthur's Candle.
Formerly known as Mr Candles,[2] he was one of the eleven Masters of the Bazaar, overseeing trade in candles and holding authority over dreams[3] from his lighthouse, situated between Parabola and reality.[4] Alongside Mr Cups (or Wines), he was likely responsible for the Fall of the First City.[5]
The Second City proved to be a major setback for the Bazaar and the Masters. The Pharaoh’s Daughters tricked the Masters,[6] imprisoning them within the "House of the Feather,"[7] a structure overlooked by the Salt Lions.[8] For 2,000 years, the Masters were trapped together in a confined space.[9] Desperate, they sought a scapegoat — and Candles was chosen.[10]
Candles was considered a Runt among Curators and lacked the "Dual Nature."[11] In their society, Runtery was a crime, the very thing that led to his exile.[12] His Runtery and "aberration" may have referred to infertility and an inability to feel (sexual or romantic)(?) attraction (unmoved by gravity).[13] What ever the case, he was very much aware of what his colleagues thought of him, and knew they would betray him eventually. But he craved companionship and held out hope that they would not turn on him.[14]<choose uncached=""><option>Foolish, foolish, foolish.</option><option></option></choose>
HATE
"Is it opening, now, does it open? Are there snares we can grasp, to place them tinily in our flesh, as we will take the flesh of Vake-the-betrayer, black as the knives? Dear deep void those knives. My flesh was not meant for them. And their teeth like the tenderness of insects. Ah, ah, ah, ah."[15]
A statue from the Third City
Before it fell, the Third City was ruled by three priest-kings who relentlessly hunted any creature to sate their hunger.[16] Having long-standing trade relations with the Second City,[citation needed] they were aware of the Masters’ nature and contacted them to strike a dangerous bargain.[17]
At some point around 900-1000 CE, the Bazaar arranged for the purchase of the Third City, offering its priest-kings the flesh of a god as their price.[18] Candles, believing only a small part of himself would be required, consented to the deal.[19] But Veils knew better and led the way. Just before dawn, the priest-kings struck.[20] They hooked Candles’ flesh, pinning him in place, and carved out pieces of him with obsidian knives to eat. His flesh granted them ascension along the Chain,[21] turning them into the immortal God-Eaters.[22]<choose uncached=""><option>The knives. They glistened. They cut. And oh, how they ate.</option><option></option></choose> He was alive through the whole process, and was still alive when they threw what remained of him to drown in lacre.[23] His remains were likely buried somewhere in the northernmost reaches of the Neath,[24] under a granite well.[25]
Following Candles' death, the Masters erased all records of his existence and knowledge of his name.[26]His domain over dreams was given over to Mr Wines and Mr Spices, who still fight over it to this day.[3]
SEEK
A light in the distance.
Mr Eaten still holds considerable power and influence over the Neath, despite his death. His voice echoes from deep waters and wells, for all water remembers the well from which it once came.[27] He is at his most powerful in Parabola, and as such he communicates mainly through dreams. He holds a bitter grudge against the Bazaar and the Masters, and Veils in particular,[28] and is actively seeking revenge against them. So all encompassing is his hatred that it even extends to the Bazaar's master, the Sun.[29] By the hatred Flukes[30] or by the justice of the Judgements:[31] A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely.
Mr Eaten is allied closely with the Lorn-Flukes[32] and the Rubbery Men, and has his own servants, known as Seekers of the Name, who receive his commands through dreams. Dreams sent by Mr Eaten generally involve themes of water, hunger,[33] candles,[34] and cannibalism, as well as an overarching command to travel North. <choose uncached=""><option>North. North. NORTH</option><option></option></choose> He seems to have a strong influence in the northern area of Void's Approach, and his worshippers can be found in the Chapel of Lights.[35]
In the Sunless Skies timeline, Mr Eaten is called the Saint of Tapers by the Cult of the Sanctified. They do not speak his name, however.[36]
<choose uncached=""><option>A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely.</option><option></option></choose>
↑Enter the lighthouse., Fallen London"Here he once stood, on the border between Parabola and the Wilderness, to look out across his wounded realm. Or perhaps he only imagined it. Perhaps you only imagined it. This is a dream that wounds, but it is a dream."
↑Looking in the garden, Fallen London"The traveller writhes and twitches on a stone slab, in some kind of fit. He looks wretchedly thin and haggard. A short step from death. The priest-king weeps over him. Two figures step into the chamber, hunched and garbed in many-petalled black cloaks. Masters of the Bazaar. One carries a clay cup, the other an unlit candle. The one with the cup says, "I think we can be of service to each other. Allow me to propose an exchange...""
↑Buying secrets, Fallen London"Since the Second City, [...] We were a royal house [...] We played those black-cloaked vultures for fools, so we did. Beat them at their own game and pulled the nose of the Bazaar [...]"
↑Homecoming, Fallen London"[...] your immense basalt paws [...] Your twin is at your side. [...] you watch as a funerary procession makes its way towards a temple. A group of hooded creatures [...] are led inside, and do not emerge for centuries.""
↑This really can't be good for you, Fallen London"caught incarcerated caged two dozen centuries no space no space to spread my wings !unbearable! !release me! Spit venom at my judas gaolers may their kohl eyes gender worms may their bones burn in their flesh !unbearable! !release me!"
↑Homecoming, Fallen London"How dare you", rasps Mr Spices, though it lacks the will to punish the transgression. "You can't imagine it. Tricked by creatures as low as you. Led into a trap. Imprisoned for aeons. The furthest I have ever been from home. Forced to sacrifice—" Its words catch in its throat.
↑"A Tree which lacks the Dual Nature is less. A Beast which lacks the Dual Nature is no less. This kind are not Trees, nor are they Beasts. Each Clutch has sometimes its Runt, who lacketh part of the Nature. Even the Runt has uses. Consider the Owl."
↑Enter the lighthouse., Fallen London"But it is clear that he was aware of his deficiency, long before the betrayal. He knew the others would turn on him. He hoped they would not."
↑My Kingdom for a Pig, Fallen London"Beasts slaughtered, feasts spread on the floor. [...] We chew. [...] we devour the dead until our hungers have been fed. Feed us. Feed us more than the dead."
↑My Kingdom for a Pig, Fallen London"It isn't really much to pay. [...] [...] someone else can take the fall to feed them, feed them something more. Just sign here."
↑SEVEN OF WORDS, Fallen London"In the hours before dawn, when he was drowned, you dream that you come to your door and knock on it."
↑You have rejected wine and song, Fallen London"[…] the flesh and blood of the Twelve is intoxicating and transcendent. If you consume something greater, then you may incorporate it: unless it incorporates you. […] This is the lesson of Couriers. This is the lesson of the knives and the pool."
↑Look into the water 1, Fallen London"A celebration! The God-Eaters lick their fingers, not to waste a scrap. They will live forever now. Much good will it do them."
↑Pervert your studies, Fallen London"He came up (you do not write) to offer a little. They hooked him (you do not declare) like a fish. Their knives (you do not suggest) were dark and sharp as the Mountain's daughter. He screamed then (you have not recorded) and they opened their mouths, red and white and rich with treasure. O but the feast was too short: sweet as the stars, bitter as the sun, all with that old redolence (which you might well footnote) of a certain ammonia. He breathed (your ink does not flow) until his vents were stifled with tears. If he had a soul (you might conjecture; you do not conjecture) it would have skipped and sizzled like rich blood on a griddle."
↑"Things you've seen in your dreams. A black vault filled with black chains. A long flinty shaft back to the light. A granite well. A knife of obsidian. A membranous wing spread against the stars of the night sky. A distorted face seen through water. You hear yourself say "A reckoning is not to be postponed indefinitely.""
↑Grieve, Fallen London"It is written here, on the candle's flank: dead, the voice from the well, dead as stone, dead as time, dead as between. They want him forgotten. He will not be forgotten. The wax is his flesh. The flame is his eye. The smoke is his voice. Remember him."
↑Confront him, Fallen London"He will get his due, as I will get mine. Just as all water carries the memory of the well, all water carries the memory of the zee."
↑The hook and the bait, Fallen London"Is it opening, now, does it open? Are there snares we can grasp, to place them tinily in our flesh, as we will take the flesh of Vake-the-betrayer, black as the knives? Dear deep void those knives. My flesh was not meant for them... Ah, ah, ah, ah."
↑ENDURE, Fallen London"If the Sun is Its master, let the Sun be drowned, let the currents rush in, the strange-winds and particle-trades, the wave that trembles and the great Curve. All of it, until there is dark. My hate will not be contained until the Sun is cindered and damned, until Its heart is empty as theirs. Old night. Cold core. Iron, cooling. The Message: no more."
↑The Name, Fallen London""A reckoning," you shriek, "will not be postponed indefinitely!" You bring the cleaver down and sever your tattooed forearm, while your dead-eyed navigator watches with approval, licking its lips. The pain is exactly what you expected. In the water around you, the Flukes rear and roar. A mighty limb enwraps your zubmarine. Timbers creak. The engine screams. The black waters rush in. This is your end. You, this is the end of you. The last thing you see is the extinction of light, as they take your hard-won skin."
↑Here Be Dragons, Fallen London"The Judgements have no armies. They do not require armies. In the far heavens, where light curdles and harmony is enforced and silence is unbroken, they silently agree and express their Will. Their Will comes, at last, to Earth, to the Neath, as a storm crosses the sea. In time, when the Sequence is enacted, when the agonies are subdued, when the fabrics of the place resolve to something like matter once more, when the tears dry and the screams have nearly ceased, you will miss London."
↑So hungry, Fallen London"The morning comes. You remember nothing. Almost nothing. There is the sound the Lorn-Flukes do not make, there beneath the black and crushing silence. There are three of them. They are allies. So let us feast."
↑But the view outside your window isn't right, Fallen London"The moon shines on a flooded desert. The waters lap around the wreck of a dirigible. The night breeze that flows through the open window is cold and salt and sad. Your stomach growls."
↑Pluck something from the water, Fallen London"A soft sweet burst of savour, and a warmth in your eyes and your tongue and your heart. The shriek of monkeys and the chanting of the God-Eaters. And then you’re awake: and your mouth is full of cold wax. That is a candle in your fist. But something remains."
↑Attend a service at the Chapel, Fallen London"Oh yes," the Priest says, smiling, "the Drowned Man hums tonight. His song like fish-roe clouds the water." He waits for the congregation's assent, his eyes shadowed. "We will feel him in the harps of us, and if his tune is caught it will be raised to the sky where the bright birds pass—"
↑Recite the litany of the dead, Sunless Skies"It's true. They were lost before the rest. The Saint of Tapers and the Saint in the Glass. We never speak their names. One we have hope of seeking, the other is gone. That saint will not be with us again."
