To the Singer on The Isle

Truly, your words are touching. A creature created for the express purpose of adoration has learnt that it adores. You speak of your love of the Divine as though it were a feat of will, yet it was set in you before you ever drew breath. Ours will always be chosen, proven and paid for.

You mistake the purpose of the Apostles entirely. We do not offer the Empire's faith in haste, nor at some stranger's bidding. What we give to Our Divine, we give wholly, and so we give it with care. Our faith is built on the sacrifice of our Father, who gave Himself to bear up Earth. We do not take lessons in sacrifice from a song

You presume to speak for the Gods and tell us what They are owed. Perhaps They are owed more. But it is not your place to stand as the gate through which the Empire must pass to reach Them, and We will not seek Their regard through you. When the Apostles and the Empire come before Them, is is Their judgement we will answer to, not yours.

As for this will of yours, you have so far only delivered it in ink and the Empire has never lacked for enemies who wrote beautifully. Should you wish to prove yourself greater than the Empire, the gates stand open, on the East and the West. The Apostles will be waiting, but beware For the Earth does not hunger - it demands - and we are its voice, and its voice is Fury.

We want for nothing you could offer, least all instruction in reverence from one who was never given the choice to feel otherwise.


Kneel, or be knelt.


"Let all pretenders be smote to sand and smoke in our crucible, their weaknesses burned away to reveal naught but the truth buried in their
bones."


Warden Neco
Bonekeeper
~ a plain, desiccated skull is carved here ~

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 22nd of Chakros, in the year 22 AC.