The alliance is reforged, mortal. The planes thus quake, and the gods shudder.

Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

I am so much more than what you made me.

Not what will happen - what will you do. Your past is not yet lost. Your future is not yet fixed.

But loneliness that deep gets into the marrow. Now that I’m here - among friends - I can feel it burning out of me. Little by little, step by step.