The Inscription (translated from the Elder Tongue by forbidden cultists; original runes resist all but the maddest deciphering):

Once mighty, his kingdom thrived, Till betrayal struck, hopes deprived, By mortal desires, small and vain, Love scorned, its warmth in disdain.

His body severed, limb by limb, His hand sundered, protected by him, Each finger guarded with utmost care, By an ancient king, mighty and rare.

Too potent, he instilled mortal dread, His body consumed, ashes spread, To Zin's four corners, forever denied, His return, thwarted, forever defied.

No words he utters, yet his knowledge spreads, No eyes to perceive, but all truths he threads. Seek his fingers, serve his rebirth, For his eternal rule, unmatched in worth, Unchanging power, reign ever grand, Reaching far, an empire vast and spanned.

Cultist Marginalia (scratched in fresher, frantic Common beneath the runes):

The Mouthless One waits. The War of Sin was but the first betrayal—lust, pride, envy, all sins of flesh that felled him. The kings who guard his fingers grow weak with time. Find them. Gather what was scattered. When the hand is whole, the voice will return, and Zin will kneel to the silence that commands all.

Faded Scholar’s Note (in barely legible ink at the tablet’s edge, likely added by a later explorer):

This speaks of the Sovereign of Sin, cast down in the War of Sin before even the Century War. Five fingers, five guardians—kings who bargained for immortality to keep him broken. Do not seek them. I dreamed of a crown without a face last night.