The Chariot rose from the east. Sparks lit the sky, and darkness was
driven away. Our shoulders groaned under the burden of upholding the
world we'd been given.

Our eyes turn east, and we watch the sky swallow itself, see the four
elements unite for the last time to give birth to evil.

It is a curse. It has children. As we rally to protect our brothers, the
blackness of Their touch clouds our minds. Despite, we prevail. Our hate
grows.

It is called God-Eater. Evil devours the Seething Chaos, and Corruptor
rallies the last of Her strength to become Sanguine. We are witness to
the powerlessness of the indestructable. Our hate grows.

Two merge to one, Knight and Truth made to twin blades, and vengeance is
wrought. The sky remains twisted. The children of evil still remain. Our
hate grows.

Proof of our abandonment; the Mages are broken, four elements fracturing
to six. No answers. We watch the Globe breaking, and we are witness to
the future. Our hate grows.

A Golden Parade comes, the fires of darkness are set in the Heart of
Sapience. Our eyes turn to the sky, and our Gods again are powerless.
Our hate grows.

The Amalgam is sundered, and our tears mingle with the blood of the
dead. The first of evil's servants falls in the Isle of Tides. Our hate
grows.

Vengeful, the Golden Dragon devours the Isles, and our Twin God oozes
madness in the name of survival. Our Gods are powerless. Our hate grows.

Our eyes turn in all directions, watching for the Third Child to come.
Watching for the end of the world we were given. Our shoulders set
themselves to readiness for the burden they will bear.

Our hate has festered long, and seeks release, crimson and bright.
We are united in our hate.
Pity the foe of the Rellyw.

Our Age is Midnight Black.
Our Dawn will be Red.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Chakros, in the year 304 MA.