Tho' Corruption always quickest to crow, this aint Her Age.

Loss' a lil' closer to all thats gone on, but there is more to this Age than 'em pangs of grief and betrayed trust.

And 'Eternity' aint even make sense as the name for of an Age thats gonna end one day as sure as the last one did.


No. This is the Age of Instinct. Tho' my Empress' dead, She lives in this, Her realized dream of a world free of the World-Devourer. She lives yet in the truth we saw with our own eyes, a truth She's always known. A truth She acted on, tho' it cost Her life.

This is the Age of Instinct for Instinct's triumphant. The long-lurking enemy of our existence, the silver monster hiding behind the saintly face of parent and protector is fled, and we can live, and grieve, and sing, and fight, and listen to the call within, knowing at last we aint gonna follow in the footsteps of that first world.

As heroes or as villains, priests or recusants, monsters or saints, we live, our Instinct unshackled in memory of She.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 25th of Chakros, in the year 0 AC.