The only one who may cast Judgement, is Death, Himself.

Without Death, Life would lose its poignancy, its depth, its very essence. It would be rampant and untamed, unknowing of necessary cullings and seasonal harvests, unable to maintain the rush the hunter has for prey. Death is the dreary shadow that gives shape to the light, the silence that underscores the melody. In its embrace, we find the courage to live boldly, love fiercely, and leave a legacy that transcends our mortal coil.

Death is magnificent not only in its finality, but in its role as a catalyst for growth and transformation. It teaches us resilience, acceptance, and the profound interconnectedness of all things. Like the falling of leaves in autumn or the fading of twilight into night, Death is a natural part of the Cycle, a reminder that change is inevitable and that beauty can be found even in the darkest of moments.

Denying a facet of the Cycle is denying the beauty of the entirety of existence. While I hold a high regard for Dia'ruis, I am not its caretaker, its voice, its eyes and ears. I entrust such things to those like the Hunter and the Praadi. Never will I claim to stand as a paragon of Life. I have, and will always be bound to Death, Until my Inevitable End.

Death plays its part, weaving its threads into the fabric of Life. It is not a force to be feared or shunned but embraced as an integral aspect of the dance of creation and destruction. For in death, we find the essence of what it means to truly live.

His Arbiter,

Ulo

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 13th of Ivolnos, in the year 2 AC.