I had never known
That one tiny little girl
Could hold so much blood
The creation is brilliant, but it's creator flies too close to the sun. The wax of his wings begins to melt. He has forgotten that when you kiss the sun that kiss is returned. I wrestle with myself. Should I tell him... One of them rides within his, patient? subject? It must be that one. It is the only one which makes any sense. The One Spoken In Whispers... the Winged One, the Truthsayer, the Elusive, the Illusive. What could happen if his creation brought us back into It's mind?
It is too brilliant. The good that could be done with it outweighs the danger. I will serve those better ends for as long as I can manage and weep for what I could not accomplish when I must take my leave.
How vividly it showed my...
No. I can not focus on the Past, there is too much Present, and... I hope, too much Future. I must leave Cain's Reckoning behind me. I must leave the tears of Blackmarch well in my wake. There is too much to do right now.