- Messages
- 15
To far too many souls, an instance of the same dream, across the greatest lands of Liaidain-
"Power is a poor salve against terror," says a crow with a mouth for a beak. It grins. "As a shield, poorer still. Know this: even the proudest and most comfortable shall know fear, and those who have forgotten it shall feel it all the keener. Each home and god and empire is founded pregnant with the seeds of its own decay."
The dream ends convulsively, with gut-deep unease. Lords of faerie and knights of giants awaken in pools of sweat and other things. A crow flickers over the moon.
"Power is a poor salve against terror," says a crow with a mouth for a beak. It grins. "As a shield, poorer still. Know this: even the proudest and most comfortable shall know fear, and those who have forgotten it shall feel it all the keener. Each home and god and empire is founded pregnant with the seeds of its own decay."
The dream ends convulsively, with gut-deep unease. Lords of faerie and knights of giants awaken in pools of sweat and other things. A crow flickers over the moon.
