It's quite dark now, a sort of calming, sooty shade of grey
enveloping the backdrop of this scenery. You could call it fog, but
fog has its own properties here, nothing happens outside of the hand
of control. Even sudden loss is absolutely controlled, every mental
breakdown perfectly orchestrated by this fragmented conglomerate war
battalion, all seven who inhabit this rudimentary dimension. We are
in absolute sync, we are our own absolute harmony; when the sands
shift, we shift along, one hand in the other, all hearts aligned,
quietly. We cast no shadows, there are no shadows allowed. Sometimes
the sun rises, sometimes it sets; usually everything occurs all
inverted, all wrong. We were always all wrong, that's what we've been
told. When the sun shines, it shines crystal clear and outlined, like
the wonderfully flawless face which will greet you. We will defy you,
but you already knew that. You were warned at the gate, you were told
to stay out. There is pain here, there will forever be pain here;
even the memory of pain is as sharp today as yesterday, as every
single time that our flesh was used, that we were spat on, that we
were told how ugly we were, how worthless. Immensely worthless. You
knew. You went in.
Now you're caught here by this efficient war-guard, these
vagabonds who won't let you go; thieves, liars and monsters, they are
all that and more. They all have their own nature, though in tandem,
every single one will cause you a different grief; the beasts will
tear you apart and burn you to the ground, the witches and
necromancers will have you cursing your existence. The worst
punishment is the one you never see coming. We are good inside, we
have the purity you seek, we have all the warmth you covet; we will
withdraw all this. Hurt us, betray us, maim us. Leaving us now, in
our moment of direst need, this you will regret dearly. You may have
fooled us once and you may have fooled yourself initially even, but
you cannot fool the path of your heart; where you bleed as you find
yourself incapable, completely powerless. And though you are not at
fault, you will pay the price. Hope has no death in this realm, it
keeps us alive. It is the hope of love that breaks us every time,
that fragments all the layers until we shed and become reborn; we
hope for the touch denied for so long, just one more chance at being
truly alive. Inert now, realizing our mistakes, our misplaced faith
in your badly patched soul. Seeing through the mirages you keep for
yourself, like shadows dancing beneath fire, silver spiderwebs of old
promises, full of dust. You want and you want and you need so much
but your heart has bled dry all these years. And now you stand among
us here, once more allowed in the sanctity you defiled so; we tower
above you, all strength and flames and the terrifying honesty of
absolute force. There you crumble, there you fall, with your wounded
entangled core of destruction; all the brilliance you could be is too
heavy for you to bear. You must pay the price now, you must become.
Become, or perish.