Fools! Mortals of Sapience! Ramble, bicker, rabble, and rot! You have accepted the Truth yet declare another. You know the Truth- that all things return to the Void. To Everything. To Nothing. Do not lie to your Children, Sapience! The Void is empty. The Void is full. There is no pain. There is no suffering. There is no sadness. There is? Nothing. Nothing is destroyed, and nothing remains. All is known as there is nothing to know.

You may march! You may stamp! You may shout! Nothing can stop the Tide. Creation is but a beach. You have built your fantastic sand castle on it. Yet the Tide beckons! It comes! And what of the sand and the salt and the minerals which have dissolved into the vastness? They are indiscernible. They feel no pain. They merely become one with the sea.

Redemption! At the End of a Sword! Yes, Bloodsworn, you and your gods can stomp, shout, and knock over every sand castle on the beach as the fat, petulant children that you are. And what of your's? It will wash away. Brothers, heed me well. As Ayar to Proteus, as Creation to her brother Void, as a simple ores smelted, as the many children and brothers in mortality, shall return, but One!

As do all.

As do none.

Hail the Void which frees mortal binds!

Hail the coming Tide!

But let us not forget, what is most import: Hail the Truth!


Until Oblivion,

Magister Bellator, Jinsun Ze'Dekiah, Twin-born Assassin

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Sarapin, in the year 656 AF.