Witches of a Broken World,

See conquest ahead, by Srahda's eyes, and flail. Forget truth even while swearing by Lanos. Knowledge was terrible, so declare memory stronger -- but know it lies. Slander your defender, you who were slandered.

How could those who worship cultish frailty, rather than anything true, understand defiance?

You flail in fear of being knelt by those whose mercy you fail to recognize; ignobly welter about resistance after a victorious foe pauses unwisely to grant reprieve! What a broken world where a slaving Tyrant is kinder with his power than a wildling, who wears freedom's symbol on her brow, who beguiles pawns and touts leashes and collars.

Other blood-drinkers do not bear the fault; it is yours. You planned war against the God-Makers to slay Zyrialith, and Craneskull was to be the base of forward operations. The forest's new singer, after the last three mishandled by empty appeasements and abuse, tried to retake the outpost. Make no pretenses that you have not brought this onto yourselves.

The one whose name you curse wrote a primer on war that you seem not to have read. Edhain de Verdigris would rather have been a gardener than a monster. Edhain de Verdigris taught you to fight. Edhain de Verdigris wanted to be like a hart of Karak Forest. Edhain de Verdigris was defiant against the Hunter's ignorance itself.

The name cursed by the daughter of Aisha belonged to Edhain de Verdigris. But the gardener is dead.

I am,

by my will,

Edhain Arcan

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 10th of Lexadian, in the year 19 AC.