Though you may know not my name, nor I any reason to know or respect many of your own, My God respects the title known as Architect of Blood and Bone beyond many other mortal institutions of power and leadership.

It was He that was there during the tumultuous beginnings of your apostolate, when the pieces of the warbands were but motes of possibility cast adrift. In those moments, He saw the gleam of the ambitious few who might carry out the grand mission of your priesthood: to forge unbreakable alliances not with mortals, but with Gods beyond your Empire's walls.

We bellowed aloud our challenge for all to hear, a quelling chorus to span the plane entire with its indelible refrain.

It was He that came to know your most holy of books, the Apocalyptia, its every verse and note given new breath and life upon His most crisp of tongues. Your youngest pebbles would know His voice in these times, and were given challenge to overcome that which came before.

And so the sacred earth did tremble beneath the relentless thunder of drums beyond counting.

It was He that was your greatest asset, yet He now lies cast aside for He did not respond to your offerings: litters of pups, book clubs, storytelling competitions...

Too did all our foes quiver at the sonorous roar of battle hymns so savage as to still their hearts with primal fear.

My Lord, Midnight's Uncrowned King, does not lead one by the hand. It is not in His way to find those content to wallow in the monotony of an average life and reward them with riches and favoured blessings. Nor, as I have found in my years of service since escape from the Infernal Durance, is it in His way to see the loss of what was once His as anything but a grievous error by those who wrest it free from His claws.

May impurity be scoured from the sacred lands and laid to dust amongst the shifting sands.

Where once you held the respect of My Lord, Shadow Incarnate, He wishes you to only know this: Your path toward gaining alliances with other Divine has become that much more difficult, for you no longer may count upon His claws to tip the scales in your efforts.

And may we never know peace.

Perhaps you will prove Him wrong.

Niharika Iyeri
Right Hand of the Jackal
Priest of Telsandalath

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 8th of Lleian, in the year 20 AC.