You aren't going to believe me. Hear me out, I'll start slow, work further in from there.

You probably heard of the Large Hadron Collider; big thing beneath Switzerland built to prove string theory? Crazy theories about what it's actually going to do abound: create a world-destroying black hole, reset the universe, create a time paradox, etc.

What you probably didn't know is that there was a failure, a breach in the hull releasing some super-cooled helium. Just a minor setback, not important.

Except that the helium was zero degrees Kelvin, a temperature at which matter has no mass.

They didn't tell us about that.

And no one saw the hole that began to burn its way through the sky, no one saw the thing that stepped through. I didn't even see it.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. A failed rocket test in Russia, swirling colorful thing. Thank god they pulled the self-destruct.

I wanted to show you a copy of the footage, but it's gone, all of it. They must have destroyed it.

Blackness spreads from where the rocket detonated; darker than even the night sky around it spreading in a perfect sphere. You ever seen a honest-to-god PERFECT sphere? No. You fucking haven't.

The city below suffers an unnatural ice storm. I can't remember the commies' excuse.

Something got out. Or in. Something old and dark and thoughtless, something that could stamp out life and existence if it knew it wanted to.

I call it Cold-Space, because it lacks mass, shape, or form; I've only been able to follow it looking for the inexplicable freezing-deaths, before they hide them.

I don't know why they're doing it. Maybe they want to capture it or kill it or weaponize it or find fucking Hoffa with it. God only knows. I, on the other hand, don't even know who they are.

When we first found out, started tracking it, we thought - knew - it would disperse. It couldn't exist, not logically. Not within any science, religion, or law I know of.

But it didn't.

Three fucking months. That's how long we monitored it. We couldn't wait anymore, so we tried to find a way to catch it or find someone who could. That ate up another nine months.

Then we found him - and the weapons that might do the trick.

At first, we didn't believe they were real, but we sent Cornelius (Or was it Phillip? No, we lost Phillip in the first round, but more on that later.) to try and get one of them. He did.

He came back, different in a similar kind of way, and showed it to us. Dylan vomited, I think I cried, and the rest handled themselves better. Cornelius started talking about what he learned when he asked the question - there is nearly always a question - the power they could give us, the knowledge. We didn't need the Trollvader, we could be gods.

I think I was the first to release that Cornelius had died in that room. The thing that came back, it was a ghost, a doppelganger, a shadow. Maybe just the Objects probing our group, trying to discover our intent.

He went down real enough when you got him in the back. Maybe I'm just going off the edge.

We didn't try and get another Object after that. We knew they would eat us from the inside out.

We found him on a message board. Don't use technology to talk to him. hurts my mind. i love to talk of Jjiiiigglingggg things A ruuunnnnning through the guCCCK- Pppplease make UT stop. LLiiIeZ, R annnd D for them.

IN BRAIN!

He found out we were looking for him, sent us a nice little letter in the mail and asked to speak with us. That was when we lost, I think.

It's fairytale rules with him. Take no gifts. Be polite. Don't eat his food. Don't lie. Don't tell him your name. Don't look him in the eye. Don't dance. Bind him to his oath. Wear red. Never sleep. Always have a frog with you. Don't ever let him speak.

We lined up like lambs to the slaughter. Told him our names, let him speak, went into his home.

He said he'd help us if we won a game. Three rounds, three of us. Phillip was chosen for round one, Dylan round two. I'm last.

I think we're like old Cornelius, now. Ghosts. Dead in all be deed.

Let it not be said that we mice, food played with, did not fight 'til the bitter, mocking end.

We lost two rounds. Game over. All of us now.

But he wants the game to go on.

That's where we get him.

He lost years ago, before they started using envelopes again, we use it now. Found it in the Sahara, fools didn't know it for what it was.

IT IS THE MIRACLE THE THREE WISHES IT IS THE ONE MORTAL THING HE LACKS.

Use it against him. Tell him you have it but don't speak with him.

Make no deals with it; only imply you might give it to him. If you suspect the smallest sliver of foul play, burn it. Better he suffer with you than kill you.

I can't tell you his name. I made that earlier on up. It will help you. Here is a clue, and a warning:

What is greater than god, More evil than Satan, Feared more than death, And carries on beyond the grave

You know it. Please, find him, bind him.

Cold