Spinesreach,

You countenance the will of a leader who is not present among you in any regard. By all accounts, Inkh never once saw the devastation of the Primal Eye with his own ocular appendages. He never once stood against the slavering triplicate hordes of state-designations Enorian, Bloodloch and Duiran, eager to command your civic colleagues to die for the defence of /HIS/ home. Not yours, never yours, for the will of the state has never factored into the whims of designation Inkh, only for what value he can wring from its senseless organs akin to an overworked Ascendril in a futile effort to appeal to a God that cares nothing for him, and never will.

Remember always his claim that /HE/ made two bombs, never you. Total dismissal of the enormity of what the Ef'tig achieved together.

You have chosen the shackles of overwhelming mediocrity. Spinesreach will be chronicled as the city to wound Creation, then to end itself in political subservience to a leader unworthy of integer representation upon a standard relevancy index.

In hindsight, these revelations explain the character of Eocik and the Architect well. It appears to be a Spirean cultural tradition to stumble upon transcendental knowledge, partially actualize it to intense effect, then ambulate backwards onto one's posterior from the precipice of greatness. No Pentarch-adjacent padding will dull the bruise from this height, and degradation is brought upon Dragon-class entities for their nomenclature association with you.

Your Memory is not worth the ink.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 17th of Midsummer, in the year 505 MA.