
8:34:46 pm
UCT
39
online
8:34:46 pm
UCT
39
online
Something has brought you to this place.
You have come here to fulfill your purpose, a hollow receptable made to hold something Greater than yourself. Your basin sits empty in your hands, the void inside you tinged with a melancholic sorrow and a quiet resolve.
You feel the weight of that emptiness, not as a burden, but as an invitation to something that you don't quite understand yet. The echo of what is yet to come lingers in the air, swirling around you like the dust of forgotten things.
Death will come for you, in time. Accept it with open arms. Cup your hands, hold them out to the heavens, and graciously accept what these blood-soaked lands have to offer you. The ground beneath your feet will tremble, as if to remind you that the very soil upon which you stand is not a place of rest, but of trial. Your hands will be stained, your spirit tested. There can be no ascension without turmoil.
May the odds be ever in your favor.