EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE

[aionmods]

The Empty Throne

DESCENT

Nearly two weeks after being dragged from shrine caverns, you hear along the grapevine that the "the throne room is complete." It doesn't take long to figure out what that means; the ritual grounds that you have been hearing mention of are finally prepared, and it's only a short while before you are once again being gathered together for travel. As a small mercy, at least this time the journey is short.

Through a passage that has been blocked by a gathering of soldiers for the entire length of your stay, a stairway is revealed to you. It leads deep into the ruins, through unfamiliar structures and into the bowels of the earth. Though your feel your are mostly going downward, the walk is still long on account of how many stairs their are, and the soldiers escorting you are restless. They are now being led by the stray, mask wearing Achamites that have been accompanying the group till now, silently observing. Whatever place this is, it seems that they now hold court.

Funneled into the chambers below, you are greeted by a massive, domed enclosure of stone. Positioned around its circular radius are twelve thrones in various states of disrepair, sized as if meant to seat giants. The backs of these thrones all differ slightly in design, though most have great cleaves of stone broken loose from their architecture, as if subjected to some great cataclysm. Each is engraved with a sigil, though some have been obscured by the destruction wrought. The throne closest to the entrance has been almost entirely demolished, making it impossible to glean much about.

The dome's ceiling appears to be hundreds of feet tall at its apex, its smooth surface disrupted by stalactites that puncture through its form like teeth. As a result, many chunks of the original structure seem to have cracked and collapsed in to the floor below. When examined closely, these fragments of the domed ceiling seem to be made of a material strangely reflective in quality, though caked in many years of dirt and grime. If large enough sections are cleaned, patterns may emerge, revealing designs that look almost like star maps. The floor beneath your feet as a similar, but subtly different quality, covered in wreckage and ruin but can be cleaned to reveal complex patterns of intersecting lines.

A careful eye will indicate that these lines all lead towards the center of the room - the one space that has been cleared and scrubbed prior to your arrival. Here, the lines converge, with carefully preserved marking in the stone that bely increasing levels of runic complexity the closer you look. This is where the ritual will be held, you are told.

THE RITUAL

There is not much time to regain your bearings before you are being shuffled forth towards the ritual space; no, all the waiting has already been done. Under the command of the smaller group of Achamites, the Hylicians will make heavy use of the whips in leading everyone to their places along the rune-inscribed circle. Before that, however, small cuts will be made to each prisoner with an athame, either on their hand or arm. With a sharp, burning sensation in the afflicted skin, these cuts will spread into wounds reflecting the image of one of the eleven sigils displayed on the thrones encircling the group, and matching the shrine they were originally pulled from.

With this accomplished, they can finally be taken into the circle. With a design comprised of four triangles overlapping, the design of an open eye carved at its center, all prisoners will be led to separates points on its design where the lines cross. Seemingly arranged by their shrine sigil to be closest to whatever throne represents them, they will be brought to their designated positions one by one. Any attempts to flee or disrupt the process will be dealt with swiftly and harshly, exacerbated by the increasing levels of paranoia and fear in the soldiers themselves. Whatever is being done here, they don't seem happy to involved with it either.

When everyone is in place, the seeming master of ceremonies will finally emerge. A dark haired woman will appear from the shadows, motes of golden light fluttering about her otherwise darkness-clad visage. Moving towards the center of the circle, she will stand over the marking of the eye and begin working her magicks. As if on cue, the soldiers will withdraw any remaining whips and scurry to the outside of the circle, only for new bonds of ethereal energy to lash out of the ritual circle itself, binding each and every prisoner and dragging them down to their knees. Among the soldiers, you can hear mutterings identifying this woman as "the Aion."

"Come," she says to the coterie of robed Achamites, who will approach the circle with an assortment of vials collected into cases. There is enough for each prisoner to be given a drink, and so they will; a vial of abyssal liquid will be forced into each one of your throats, no matter how uncomfortably it must be done. While no less ruthless, the Achamites have a different way about them as they work, forcing themselves upon you with a strange familiarity that feels more akin to a mother forcing their child to take medicine than the suspicious hostility of the soldiers. As the foul liquid touches your tongue, it takes on a consistency almost like a living thing, crawling down your throat even if you refuse to swallow, all while the Achamites stroke your hair and make saccharine assurances.

Once all the prisoners have been fed their vial, the Achamamites too will retreat from the circle - all except for one. Joining 'the Aion' at the center, the two of them will begin enacting a planned ceremony of sorts, that culminates in the following scene:

The Achamite kneels before the Aion, lifting their masked face to meet their dark gaze. They speak, in practiced tones.

"To the Kenoma my body, to the Kenoma my soul."

In response, the Aion holds the Achamite's face between their hands in almost a loving gesture. She speaks softly:

"By the blood of the Martyr, I accept your sacrifice."

From the Aion's hands a darkness spreads across the Achamite's body, as if they are melting and dissolving on a cellular level. She kneels along with them, cradling them as their body breaks down, pooling in a void-black liquid around their knees. It drains into the lines of the ritual circle, surging out towards the prisoners.

Within moments, the ritual is complete.

KENOMA SICKNESS

As this dark power surges throughout the ritual circle, you will find yourself almost consumed by the tide. Whatever foul creation you were forced to swallow wakes within your chest, and you can feel it move within your veins, inside you lungs, behind your eyes. As quickly as it begins, the flood of darkness washes over you, but not without leaving you stained.

Something has changed in its wake. As you return to your senses, you will notice the magical bonds of the circle have fallen away, leaving you free to move; for once, the soldiers will not move to lead or restrain you. Instead, the Hylicians warily back away from the ritual space, retreating towards the only path upwards, where they form a defensive line. The Achamites that linger make a series of ritual gestures, praying in voices too soft to hear. The Aion woman stands in the center, her hands blackened with residue from the person you just watched fall to pieces in her arms.

"You will be given time to find your truth," she says. "Use it well."

As you recover from the experience enough to stand, she and her Achamite entourage are already retreating to join the Hylician guard. Gradually, your situation will become clear: they intend to keep your trapped down here. However, it will not be the same as when you waited before. Instead, the soldiers simply intend to block your only exit out, and otherwise leave you free to roam the full diameter of the throne room, seemingly free to do whatever you want as long as it isn't trying to break free of the cavern's confines. Each day, they will offer to their prisoners a limit supply of food, water, and firewood, but nothing more. Beyond that, you only have your increasingly dirty white robes and the same bedrolls as before.

❖ COMMUNION
The first change you will experience is an itching darkness in your mind, like a psychic wound that is becoming infected. The sort of thoughts you would normally try to force down become increasingly hard to resist; despair, hatred, and fear will plague you, and requiring great feats of will to silence even temporarily. Phantoms of the things you'd rather forget will become a constant companion, all while a presence seems to whisper: when you accept your fate, the pain will stop.

Worse than this, the darkness of your mind may not remain private. As if awakened by the ritual, your empathetic sense has become impossibly strong, to the point that you feel the broadcasted emotions and thoughts of others, and in turn, your darkest thoughts will be psychically projected to others with a volume proportional to the intensity with which you feel them. This effect is most potent between those sharing Legacy, with the capacity for their identities to become momentarily confused. In all cases, this connection may bleed into your dreams, or manifest as hallucinations.

❖ TRANSFORMATION
Yet, your mind is not the only thing that ails. In proportion to the strength of your emotions, your body may begin changing to match your state of mind. Physical transformations akin to those mentioned here will begin to manifest, themed to your inner suffering and the most negative aspects of your self conception. These alterations may shift from moment to moment, depending on the turbulence of your emotional state. They may or may not be painful.

❖ AFFLICTION
Along with the above effects, characters may also experience various more mundane ailments; essentially anything traditionally associated with illness could fit. Weakness, nausea, body aches, and chills are all common options. Along with this, void-black ooze may start to trickle from virtually any orifice. While it may stain clothing and skin, the material itself will dissipate after a few minutes in a manner reminiscent of ectoplasm. This effect may also appear around your Shard, as if the stone itself has begun to bleed.

RESISTANCE

Even as the Kenoma threatens to overwhelm you, you still have the power to fight. Though it may be a grueling war of attrition, you can force back its advances with sufficient will to survive and resist the darkness. Of course, your captors are not going to make this easy for you. Those that fight hard enough to expel the Kenoma from their bodies and spirits will take at least a week to do so, and for that duration they will be trapped within this chilly cavern, haunted by their worst thoughts and emotions.

The bedrolls barely strand up against the cold, your clothing doesn't at all, and to be comfortable you'll require fire. Yet, there is a limited amount provided to you, along with food and water, and the soldiers do not seem to be making any effort to distribute it evenly. Achieving basic warmth and sustenance may become a battle against your fellow inmates, all while you struggle against the enemy infecting your body. Cracks in the dome of the cavern lead into some smaller caverns and crevasses in the stone that can offer some privacy or protection, but the more splintered the group becomes the less the supplies will hold up. Fortunately for you, neither the cold nor starvation will kill you, but it will make you suffer.

Yet, you may still persevere. As you fight back the Kenoma, something else will be cultivated in its place. Bit by bit, a comforting and warm presence will grow within you, gradually disrupting the maladies afflicting your body and mind. Your faith and perseverance has been rewarded with an attunement to the Pleroma, the Kenoma's cosmological opposite; given enough time, the Kenoma will be forced from your being entirely, in the form of void-black sludge. Only then will your power begin to shine through, the abilities of your past life slowly returning.

You must keep your guard. With or without otherworldly power, escape will be a struggle.

ACCEPTANCE

Or, you may choose the easy option. Maybe the Kenoma resonates with your history and emotions in a way that makes it seem like it isn't the enemy. Maybe the depths of your despair are too deep to escape. Maybe your simply lack the strength to fight. Whatever the reason, sooner or later, the Kenoma claims you. The more you let it in, the less it feels like a poison and the more it feels like strength. The darkness settles comfortably into the cracks and holes of your spirit, and you awaken to its power. You feel the change viscerally.

This world is not good enough, a voice seems to speak through the Kenoma. This suffering you feel, the cruelty that has birthed this darkness in you... it is simply the rot that is consuming this existence. A better universe awaits, one forged by your own hand, and all you need do is first bring about this broken reality's end.

Whatever effects you were suffering from the Kenoma's presence will fade away, and in its place, you will feel your endurance bolstered. The clarity is stark in comparison to the mire you were trapped in before. As the other prisoners suffer around you, the Aion woman from before and an accompaniment of a couple Hylician soldiers will approach you among the ruins, as if summoned straight to your location. She looks you over, her dark eyes impassive, and then asks:

"Did you feel it?"

She doesn't actually wait for an answer, your expression alone enough to assure her. She'll tell the soldiers that you are free to go, and that you are to be given a share of their food and a change of clothes. She'll escort you out of cavern and towards the upper ruins, where the soldiers and Achamites have set up camp. This feels natural to you, somehow, like you and her are on the same wavelength in a way that is hard to comprehend. She is like you, you sense. That dark power is within her as well.

She doesn't linger with you for long, but she will see that you are on your way before heading back to the caverns. She'll say that the voice you heard, that promise, was the Regent, the ruler of this land. They spoke of a power that could birth a new, better universe, and they weren't misleading you. It's within their reach, closer than ever, and if you help them achieve it you will be rewarded lavishly. For now, you are free to regain your strength while the others make their choices. She only asks that you stay in the area and be ready to join the Regent in Achamoth when all is prepared.

If you're prone to boredom, though, she will mention that you'd really be doing the prisoners a favor by convincing them to accept the Kenoma like you did. You could convince them with words, or by making their situations so unbearable they won't have a choice but to break. However you'd like. It won't be worse than what's coming for them if they carry on this way.

When she parts ways with you, you are left to your own devices. Somehow, you feel inclined to cooperate. After all, the Regent did have a point.

QUESTIONS

Are the involuntary transformations during the Kenoma sickness period temporary afflictions or permanent ones?
By default they are temporary, but characters can also keep a couple keepsake changes if you'd like! An Aion's physical appearance is something that is generally in flux, and so even if you keep something from this event, you can always alter it later.

What kind of supplies are going to be distributed to those who accept Kenoma and leave the caverns?
They'll be given food, water, and clothing. They'll be given more/better rations than they were as prisoners, but it's still the sort of food that is limited by the fact that they are out here on a mission. The soldiers will have some fresh meat from prey they've been hunting in the forest, and will generally be having a lot of stew-based food going. There are actual spices in it, though, so that's cool. This is all set up where the Hylicians are camping.

As for clothes, they will get a fresh set (including boots or shoes) and some soap to clean themselves up in the nearby creeks and ponds. Hylici has an aesthetic that leans towards ancient Greek/Roman, so while they won't have anything fancy with them, you are free to assume they are able to acquire anything in that general ballpark. They do also have pants, though. While it is now spring and Horos has a generally temperate climate, it can be chilly at night.

Will Pleroma attuned be able to escape once they've regained their powers?
Yes, they will be allowed to escape at that point, and a second log will be going up to cover that part of the event. This log should generally cover up until shortly after Pleroma start ejecting the Kenoma's influence. Characters are permitted to escape by their own power if they somehow devise a plan to do so, but as we know the Pleromas are at a significant disadvantage in this situation, some characters who have fought against the Kenoma particularly valiantly will be given some magical assistance to help the survivors escape.

Will the Kenomas be able to try to stop them?
Yes! The second log will be set up to contain some PVP, though given the Pleromas do need to escape, we ask that you play nice. There will be a battle, but it will be structured in the context of the Pleromas having to hold off the Kenomas long enough to escape, so it will be relatively brief.

Can we speak to "the Aion"?
Yes, she will be around for the full length of the event. All characters will have the chance to find her watching over the group whether they are Kenomas or soon to be Pleromas. She will not be that talkative, though, so anyone tagging her will have to lead the conversation. She will not make small talk. Martyrs will recognize her as one of them.

Comments

[lachtara]

Emet-Selch makes a noise somewhat reminiscent of a snicker. Oh, how he desperately needed to hear something humorous - and that certainly qualified! Good for the soul, indeed.

"Then I will be your most simple case to bear." He shrugs and his tone is laced with the same melodramatic flair. "I must admit to the crime of integrity because I've done nothing wrong." The simple confession is left at that.

[inutilis]

Abel, meanwhile, chooses to take that chuckle as a sign of good-natured agreeability! One never said he was a man in great touch with reality. Permit him his flights of fancy.

But that 'confession,' as it were - it earns the arch of a brow, though not entirely in skepticism as much as a touch of curiosity.

"My! You're not pulling my leg, are you, Mr. Emet-Selch? I mean... surely you wouldn't sully the very foundation of our newly budding friendship in such a way, right? No, no-- there's no need to answer. I already know you, as stated, are a man of great integrity." Yes, veritably. Abel nods to himself as if in agreement with this fact. "That's quite miraculous, isn't it? Are you some sort of Saint where you're from? Canonized? As a man of the Lord, you'll have to forgive me if I'm feeling both fascination and some sort of reverence...!"

[lachtara]

"Please." Emet-Selch says flatly. Such praise - if one could even call it that - is so excessive it tows the line of complete derisiveness and innocent sincerity.

"I am much too tired to be subject to fascination or reverence." He pulls the thin covering tighter over his shoulders. "As such, perhaps your services are better left by the wayside for now."

[inutilis]

Surely Abel is utterly sincere in his flattery!

...Alas, his propensity for good-natured teasing may have been sniffed out already. Perhaps he makes it a bit too obvious, but subtlety was never his forte; Abel merely gives a contemplative hum in response to this.

"Too tired... I see, I see. That is troublesome. Well, the solution is a simple one, isn't it? If you were confess you were -- in fact -- a man possessing something to confess... then I would have no obligation to reverence or fascination, would I? Mm, mm, that seems the only and easy fix... ah, a shame, then-- as you're a man of integrity without anything to confess. What an unfortunate conundrum..."

[lachtara]

"Unfortunate indeed." He comments blandly, unwilling to partake in being bated to say anything further. Having friends with such similar mannerisms in the past had made him well-practiced in the ways of deflecting.

"What of yourself. How did you come to find yourself in such a station?" It's ask with such mild interest. Idle conversation to redirect being pestered for a list of wrongdoings.

[inutilis]

Ah, Emet-Selch is a man who is familiar with Abel's lot; it makes wrangling the cat a bit less unwieldy...! How fortuitous.

But the priest is happy enough to go along with the moment's distraction, shifting his weight a bit to get as comfortable as one might against the firm and unyielding cold cavern floor.

"Hm? --Oh, well, the whole of it is a very long and generally boring tale, but... to make short of it, I suppose I simply wasn't cut out for much else, to be honest with you! I find myself allergic to hard labor, and apparently I have a lack of work ethic, according to several fellows in Milan-- it's all very rude and blown out of proportion, if you ask me."

[lachtara]

"A lacking work ethic, yet you have a 'quota' of good deeds to complete. How paradoxical." He observes, though not appraised of the situation enough to know how often that quota is met.

"It may be a long and boring tale but if you've the mind to tell it, I can lend an ear to listen." Emet-Selch waves a hand. As much as he despises boredom at least a little conversation could alleviate the lethargy that already plagues him. Or, more favorably, perhaps it would coax him to sleep.

"There is little else to do here and you seem to have a penchant for chatter."

[inutilis]

"...is that a polite way of telling me I don't know how to shut up, Mr. Emet-Selch? Should I be taking offense...?"

It doesn't seem he will despite his musings, because Abel gives it a moment's thought before rolling a shoulder in easy-going dismissal. (Ah, it seems his deluge is suiting its purpose... is this liken to a bedtime story?? Is Emet-Selch tucked in nice and comfortably? There, there.)

"Well, if my tale is helping to pass away the idle hours... I suppose it couldn't hurt, hm. Um-- but before I regale you, I don't suppose you'd mind me asking you something first, would you?"

[lachtara]

"If you've something on your mind, then by all means, ask it." Though what could warrant a preface like that, he could only wonder.

[inutilis]

Well, if Abel's present company sees to humoring his incessant desire to speak, then far be it for him to second guess such generosity, right?

"Your profession. Or-- I suppose, what you had been doing at home before this mess began. Do you mind if I ask what it is?"

[lachtara]

Emet-Selch looks down, a noticeable dip in his expression on his face as he recalls the darkness that had washed over Amaurot prior to his arrival. The city was a recreation fashioned from aether but it is still unsettling to see it consumed once more. To once more have the bright lights of his dear city snatched away from him.

"Long ago, a great tragedy befell my people. The very star we lived on began to tear itself apart, and many were lost as we fought to save it." He briefly recalls standing in a city square as the world burned around him, people running, buildings crashing to the ground. A rush of sorrow bubbles up within him.

"Many lifetimes have passed since then, but ever since I have sought to restore the world and its people to what it once was. It is what consumed my days prior to arriving here and it will consume my days upon my return." Because he would find a way to return there.

[inutilis]

To say Abel hadn't been expecting a reply that is both so earnest and so heartbreaking would be an understatement; the priest looks momentarily taken aback as he watches Emet-Selch tell a tale of his history. There is quite a lot to unpack in so succinct a summary of events: the death of a planet, a fight to save it from ruination, and a desperate bid to restore what had been.

There is a grief in his eyes, a gentle sloping of his shoulders as he realizes the monumental weight of such a loss. "...I'm sorry," he exhales. It is woefully little to offer in the face of that burden, but perhaps no words would ring suitable enough. "To work to those ends... multiple lifetimes..." Abel muses aloud, his voice a bit far away as he still continues to process, absorb this. The prospect of a long-lived creature is not unknown to him, but... in his world, it would mark Emet-Selch as a Methuselah. This man has walked beneath the sun; he does not share the characteristics of their kind. It seems there is much that differs about the worlds they call 'home.'

...But beyond all that, Abel takes note of something important.

"Then... you don't believe it's gone."

The dream they had all shared, the loss of their places of origin - Abel has found many have taken it as gospel. Emet-Selch does not...? He still cradles his dream of saving what had been lost, believes it capable of being saved?

[lachtara]

"I will not let it be gone. There exists a way to bring it back and I will find it." Emet-Selch corrects firmly. It is obvious what he saw as the pieces of his world were taken from him. Even so, it being lost forever is not something he will merely accept as fact. He simply can not.

His hands ball themselves into fists while he speaks, not out of anger but pain. Though he is without knowledge of this place, without the comfort of his magic, and without allies, sheer perseverance would see this through. The Kenoma whispered of promising solutions...

His eyes narrow at the floor. "I will tear down the sky if it means bringing back the world that I love."

[inutilis]

...How dryly humorous. To find a man of like mind on the subject with the same willful edge behind his conviction here.

Abel finds much personal appreciation behind those sentiments, however much others might condemn them as simply stubborn or short-sighted. He, too, whole-heartedly refuses to believe there is a possibility of it all being lost forever. He would not permit such a thing - and he would much like to see those around him carrying that same hope.

"Then your goal seems much the same here as it was at home, in a way."

The priest studies his hands in his lap for a moment. He can feel the steel, the pain and resolution radiating from his company as if it were his own; the sense of grief, loss, of rage lying beneath it all is too close for comfort. But he won't shy away from such things; it would be a great disrespect to the man beside him.

"...My wishes aren't so different than yours, Mr. Emet-Selch. Neither are my beliefs. It can't be gone; I won't let it be. Not what was mine, and not what was yours, either. I know it might not seem like much, but-- I hope in the grand scheme of things, I can offer you something a bit more helpful than a cup of water in an effort to see both our dreams to fruition."

[lachtara]

The goal here is similar, true, if prolonged by having to restore the shards to their rightful place. It makes his hopes of the world rejoining seem ever more distant.

The tense clench of his hand eases as his company talks of similar circumstances and comparable goals. Though he is not naive enough to take a mere acquaintance at their word, the mere similitude is of small comfort.

Emet-Selch looks to Abel and his determined leer softens. "Then it seems we are equal in conviction. I look forward to what you may have to offer."

[inutilis]

"I'll do my best not to disappoint," comes Abel's reply - and with a slightly more convincing smile that touches his lips to accompany it. Perhaps that statement might be something approaching ironic considering how thoroughly he had been attempting to sell his incompetence earlier, but... the priest gets the impression Emet-Selch is not an unintelligent man. Clearly he can make judgments about the validity firsthand when the time comes.

"I wish I could say there are many who share our point of view, but I feel a sad lot have just accepted that everything is irreversibly lost."

His gaze strays once more to those scattered about the throne room and the cavern's sprawl; it isn't hard to see who is suffering from more than a mild case of despair. Some have absolutely taken that loss to heart; the mournful howls that ring out in quiet moments can be unnerving and heart-wrenching, to say the least.

[lachtara]

Emet-Selch follows his new acquaintance's gaze out to a crowd of those who were overcome with their own emotions. Some consideration is given to those and their various reactions.

"Is that so?" A populace bereft of meaning, in need of direction, or perhaps someone to be on their 'side'. His mind turns over the possibilities that could be at his disposal. Perhaps they could be instrumental in redeeming what promises the Kenoma had whispered. Whatever price need be paid to achieve his goal, he could pay it.

"I feel sorry for them, I do. I know what it means to lose one's home, the despair that wrought in its wake." He had lifetimes to imbue such emotion.

[inutilis]

"...this must be especially hard for you," he muses quietly. Abel can appreciate the depths of that loss, in a way - but he would not presume to understand Emet-Selch's. That pain, that gnawing ache must be a unique sort of hell for the sheer breadth of it. "Losing precious things once is hard enough. This feels-- cruel, I suppose. To make you go through it, to save it, twice?"

[lachtara]

"I've lived an endless procession of days without the world I know and those I love. Comparatively, this does not seem any less cruel than what came before it." Having to bear witness to the fragmented husks of those he knew, weak, feeble, and lacking in every way compared to what they once were. All while remembering everything they did not.

And now, his goal is even farther out of reach.

He feels a stab of anguish rush through him. The 'poison' that was forced on him begins to writhe, and Emet-Selch puts a hand to his side to try and calm the overwhelming sadness that threatens to spill over. He takes a slow breath in and out to compose himself and the obvious strain on his face is indicative of something being wrong.

"Perhaps this conversation can be continued another time. It has been an exceptionally trying day and I need some rest."

[inutilis]

It isn't hard to see what is troubling Emet-Selch when his expression falls; to be separated from everything he'd ever known, everyone he'd ever loved... to strive so long to save it all only to have all progress lost to a deep void--

...Abel's eyes wander momentarily to the cavern ground before he gently pulls himself up and back to his feet.

"For what little it's worth, my friend... I will pray for you and what you've left behind. And... I'll do whatever I can to see you back to it. The best thing I can do for now, I'm afraid, is give you well-earned rest, so... please get what you can, alright?"

To be the only survivor left to the endless passage of time is, perhaps, a wound Abel understands well. Maybe that is why this grief resonates in him; maybe it is why he hopes to impart what little he can in the way of help in an effort to ease that burden. Either way-- there is earnestness behind the sentiments, even if they really amount to little more than words. Perhaps one day, he'll have a chance to prove his sincerity.

Until then... hopefully Emet-Selch can find respite in sleep.