For long have we walked in the light and the dark, as demons and angels,
each vying for the others' throats.

Eons have passed with the Assassins of Shadow hunting the Beacons of
Sunrise,
and still we travel down this road,
blackness to the east,
whiteness to the west.

But when does the white become a blizzard,
When does the black become soot.

At what point does the light become too bright to see,
and the dark, too dense to remember.

These are the days of journey and adventure.

I say,
Walk tall Demons,
Hover proud Angels.
Death sees through all shades of grey.



War
is coming.

Death
is coming.

Adventure on,
Angels and Demons.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Chakros, in the year 283 MA.