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.

Tread carefully, now. Not even a god would survive sacrificing me.

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

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

For I am death. And I am not the end - I am a beginning.