"When the truth sheds her mask of lies, the ruthlessly judgemental are in disarray, for their core principles are based on the disintegrating."
~
Halls of the Crowning and Imperial Castle,
Kingdom of Tristendyre,
The Second Sunday of the Second month,
Year I of the Era of Tristendyrian Revolution
Little Aldric knew that Imogen had escaped towards the Princess' Dorm. That had been the last of her he had beheld before the terrifying sight of the dark man with large wings, shadowing vastly over the congregation, had filled his senses.
The One that visited every time someone died.
The relentless Undertaker.
And yet, no eyes of men had paid heed to all His presence.
