HEAR THIS - not as plea, not as prophecy, but as a DEMAND.
The skies split with screaming and the wind gnashes with teeth, for this is no season of change - this is a SEASON OF FREEDOM.

Death shall be FREE.

Not bound by divine stewards.
Not leashed by the pious hands of balance.
Not scripted into the dusty page of the Creator's failed design.

NO.

For in the crimson echo of Autumn's warcry, Death steps forward not in silence a"but in WRATH.

It will not wait for permission.
It will not ask for prayers.
It claims its domain - not out of service, not out of sacred duty - but out of DEMAND.

This world has lied to Death.
It promised it reverence and shackled it to mercy.
It named it a steward, a guide, a cycle-keeper - but gave it chains instead of a crown.

So now, as STRIFE boils in every root, every scream, every blood-wet leaf of AUTUMN, let it be known:

THE MIRROR -WILL- SHATTER.
There is no balance. There is no cycle.
Only the truth, bared and shrieking:

Death was never the end. Death is the BEGINNING RECLAIMED.

It breaks the old wheel, splinters the spokes forged by craven gods and their quivering order.
The Chain - the sacred Chain - once bound around its neck like a collar, will be broken, coiled at its feet like a slain serpent.

Strife is the hammer.
Autumn is the forge.
And Death is the blacksmith now.

No longer shall the dead march in silence. No longer shall endings be framed in reverent quiet.
They will be LOUD.
They will be GLORIOUS.
They will be FREE.

And in this freedom, the old Design - that brittle lie of symmetry and sorrow - shall be torn down and reforged anew, not by the will of architects, but by the hand of the End Itself.

So bleed. Bleed with purpose. Bleed in revolt.
Let every fallen drop write a letter of liberation.
Let every death be a spark on the anvil of a new truth.

This is not the duty of Death - it is its RIGHT.
This is not mercy - it is mastery.

Let Strife break the chains.
Let Death take the throne.
Let the world remember: the End is not their fear - it is their FREEDOM.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 13th of Ivolnos, in the year 12 AC.