Dendara is dead, insect. All that She was is no longer, left as much a husk as the pathetic creatures here that abscond from Life's caress.

You are not the first in line to claim Her corpse, least of all for a suffering Goddess who would drag you down far beneath your magnificent potential. She is not yours, for She is far too vast and magnificent, even in Her decay. There is no worthier prey than for those who were responsible for Her demise, and to put Her out of Her misery is

You may join us in putting Her down, and together the history of our glory will be written. Her general will crumble beneath our heel, not for the feeble cries of science nor the mutagenic defection you prop up as progress, but for the destruction She is due.

We will be the lightning that rages against Her shattered skies, culling what remains and decorating Her fallow fields with the ribbons of Her fallen sacred.

Be not mistaken. Our work is not yet finished.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 18th of Khepary, in the year 504 MA.