The eastern coast of Brazil was riddled with uncountable holes and caves, ranging from mere dents in the rock to huge, twisting networks of caverns hundreds of feet deep. Among all of these caves, there was one cave that was neither the largest and most extensive, nor the smallest and the least, and, aside from one small point, completely inconspicuous, unremarkable, and certainly the last place anyone would ever look to find anything important. That one small point which made a world of difference was positioning.
The cave was perfectly positioned so that the eye slid right over the shallow gash in a sheer cliff face that was its only entrance without even meaning to, so that it was nearly impossible to give credit to unless you knew what lay inside. But that wasn't what made it so perfect, oh no, that wasn't even half of it. What made this cave so special, made this cave and no other so terribly, terribly important was in the tiny little side cavern that branched off from the main (and much larger) one. There wasn't much in the little grotto, just an unassuming, irregularly-shaped rock formation off to one side – the only even vaguely remarkable thing about it until you noticed that the rock … twisted while you watched, so that at first it might appear to look something like a man sitting down, and then you would see that no, it was most clearly an eagle taking flight, but it couldn't be, because it was obviously a snarling wolf – see, the hackles were here, and there was a fang – but that was nonsense, don't'cha see, because it was a noble lady, sitting demurely and working on a piece of embroidery that clearly wasn't embroidery, it was the froth of the sea splitting around a ship … and so on. Every change lasted no more than a few moments and yet, once appeared, was clearly that and only that, and had clearly always been that, except for a few moments before, when it would have always been something else, and in a few moments later, where it would become something else again, something it had always been. The only thing solid was a sword that appeared in every single image – stuck in the ground, lain across a lap, thrust through a chest, brandished threateningly, lying unnoticed on the floor – and even that was more of a recurring theme than an actual solid image. Sometimes the sword would be a rapier, sometimes a longknife, or a saber, or an elegant katana; it could be anything anyone dared call a blade, from a hulking, weighty greatsword to a tiny, flimsy lady's knife, suitable only for cutting embroidery stitches and loose threads, but all of them would be extremely impressive, polished to mirror-bright and inlaid with precious metals and gemstones.
That was one thing that made the cave so special. The other was far less noticeable, and yet far more important. A hole in the cave roof, formed by some unknown factor, let in a beam of sunlight that gradually moved along the dusty floor as the day progressed. At, or around sunset, the beam of light would strike the shifting formation full on, highlighting every detail and freezing the shift for a few moments longer than normal, even if it was in the very middle of a transformation (though that hadn't happened anytime that anyone had seen, but it was possible), before the sun slipped behind the horizon and was lost to man until the dawn. At times like these, it almost seemed like the rock, in whatever form it had taken, would step out from the cave wall, as real and tangible as any man or thing.
It was said that the rock and the hole existed for one purpose and one only, and that purpose was not to be revealed until the time of its happening, but that the purpose was more important than all the lives of all the things in sea, sky, or land. It was said that they would know exactly when and by whom this purpose would occur, this purpose that would rid the world of an evil so foul that there is no name for it in any language that ever dared to whisper a dream of its existence onto the earth, because they would be told. The crystal boulder that sat in the exact center of the main chamber, that was no more than a hundred yards from the grotto and its shifting stone, would tell them, would show them all they needed to know. The rock and the hole would be the key, but the crystal was the lock and the door that would help them destroy this unspeakable evil that would not, could not, be unleashed upon the helpless world.
The man who said this was standing by the crystal, his palms flat against its rough, clouded surface, his eyes staring lovingly into the roiling maelstrom that raged just underneath its surface. After a time, he pushed himself off the crystal, though with obvious reluctance.
"Come, my faithful." His words were neither forceful nor loud, but they rolled and echoed through the tunnels and caves he and his brethren used as a base of operations as if he had shouted at the top of his lungs. Presently, a few dirty, ragged lumps of humanity appeared from various tunnels around the main chamber, though the man gave heed to neither their scruffy appearance nor their rancid stench – indeed, he was little better off in either way than they were. When all that would come had come, he spoke again, revealing blackened stubs of teeth that were all but rotted away.
"Come now, the time of our waiting draws to a close, and our faith shall soon be rewarded. The Crystal has shown me those whom we must defend against, and it is we who must go out and keep them from ever unleashing their filthy, evil, putrid plots upon this innocent world. We must protect the holiest of holy Crystal."
An eager murmur followed this, not actually progressing into coherency, but speaking of their readiness more accurately than any words could. The man by the crystal smiled half in pride, and half in contentment – yes, his children were finally ready to do what they had been created for. He would impart the faces and the proper knowledge in their minds, and let them bring those who would attempt harm to the very Crystal itself to him. Let them see what it is they were against, let them see the terrible majesty of the Crystal, and let them fall before its presence, knowing they were less than the scum on his boots, they who would attempt to defile and befoul the Crystal.
"Go now, my beloved children. Go and bring them forth, the wicked and the foolish ones. Bring them to me."
His children left as silently as they had came, and the man turned back to gaze adoringly into his Crystal. Soon, my lovely. He promised while lifting up a hand to gently stroke the craggy, warm surface. Soon the Reckoning will come, and the Purpose will be fulfilled. He felt the Crystal tremble and smiled again, a tender, fond smile that would send children screaming for their mothers and give grown men nightmares for weeks. Do not become too excited, my sweet. There is much to do yet. The crystal trembled again, much more violently this time, and had it been human, anyone would have said it trembled not in excitement, but in a mixture of revulsion and terror. But the man just stood there smiling and stoking the crystal. Yes, my pretty. There is much to do yet.