Hello, Outsiders. Hello, Lightbound. Hello, Thieves.
Hello, Jhura.

My name is Ixmi, but I write to you as the Watcher of the Old World, ambassador on behalf of Dia'ruis and Her Guardian Spirits. For the second time, you have usurped what rightfully belongs to Her, innocent of the knowledge of what your thievery brings. In your haste to steal the secrets of Life and Death, you've failed to heed the lessons needed to understand them. The Seer does not abide willful blindness, and so I write to you now as a teacher.

What you have taken is a power born from the Rhythm, the endless interplay of Life, Death, and Renewal, where each step progresses and builds upon an eternal song. What is born must Live, what lives must Die, what dies must be Renewed, and with each verse, Dia'ruis flourishes towards an untold dawn. Conversely, when the Rhythm falters, unbalanced by Outside forces, Dia'ruis darkens towards incessant dusk, eclipsed by ravenous hunger and boundless savagery.

The one and only true sin is to thwart this sacred Cycle, by denying your place within it, or by perverting it towards selfish ends. The Akkari, most hated of all of Dia'ruis' enemies, do both, eschewing Death's stillness while relentlessly glutting on stolen Life. What the Akkari represent is worse even than Undeath, a catastrophic imbalance that, left unchecked, threatens to upend the Rhythm and destroy Life entire.

Death must always have His due. Every mote of stolen Life must be made up for, if not from the Akkari, then from the lives reclaimed by the will of the Spirits. You call them innocent, but the Wilds heed not innocence; their blood serves well to allay your transgressions.

Stain yourselves red with the blood of the innocent, for these are the very sacrifices that empower the witchcraft you play at. Pacts with the Guardians are never one-sided; Their price will be paid no matter how you disgrace the Rhythm. By Their will and our hand, the Cycle will endure you, no matter the cost.

Dia'ruis Eternal.

[A doodle of a white, three-eyed Raven decorates the end of the post]

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 21st of Ios, in the year 509 MA.