The mountains loom above the horizon. The ocean dances at my feet. The Realm is quiet. Dawn is creeping in on wings of redemption. The endless night is drawing to a close. The people are drawing their first breath in the light. No longer need they fear their reflection. No longer need they grasp for understanding. No longer need they devour their own hopes. A new day is being born. The Realm has toiled long through the night, preparing the way and laying the foundation. Deep within the heart of the world, the shout still echoes, but they have accepted the fact of infinity. In the light of the newborn morn, the War must surely end, and a new one be averted. Or so the prophets foretold. Amongst the people, there are those who believe and those who doubt. Neither side will overcome the holy despair. Only those who have already lost stand a chance of crossing the threshold in word and in deed. They are the last hope of salvation. It is enough. It always was.
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