Death of Gods

At the heart of the Darkenwood.

The rain pours down beneath the darkness of night, the clouds blotting out the heaven and stars. The
dark, leafy branches above you have woven an impenetrable cover overhead and your eyes struggle to
make out distinct shapes in the shadows. The smells of fresh earth and herbs greet you as you linger
here, however, a testament to the health and prosperity of this darkened wood. Few animals can be
seen peeking through the thick and tangled undergrowth, and the forest possesses an overall aura of
silence. Indeed, only the sound of your footfalls are audible as you pass through here.

Soil and rock tremble within Anachai, planet and heavens resonating in harmony with the
manifestation of She who embodies the Cataclysm: Artemis, the Great Wrath.

The roar of the First Predator rings out across jungle and mountain, the remnant Wildfather calling
forth His challenge.

Thousands of ordered whispers rise to an autocratic timbre as the epicene figure of Tlalaiad, the
Genesis, appears in the heavens.

Innumerable voices resonate as one as Tlalaiad, the Genesis dictates, "We will join Our
Doma'tashatuur in battle. The unstable One must return to Garden meld to forestall further
deterioration."

Banishing light from the Prime Material, the cowled figure of the God of Darkness coalesces into
view beside the androgynous Genesis, His crimson eyes ablaze with warning.

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "No."

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "The Wild God
challenges ancient Concord and binding Decree. We do not invade the realms of Our Kin as He does."

Innumerable voices resonate as one as Tlalaiad, the Genesis dictates, "Instability must be
addressed. We conclude Doma'tashatuur is insufficient for surety in success."

Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to
begin a new day.
It is now the 17th of Chronos, 844 years after the fall of the Seleucarian Empire.

Thousands of daemons howl and shriek as Sartan, the Malevolent roars above the cacophony, "Do not,
Genesis."

Innumerable voices resonate as one as Tlalaiad, the Genesis dictates, "We acknowledge the unity of
Garden meld within current circumstance. We reserve judgement. We require that Garden meld provide
Us observation of events if We are not to ensure the success of Doma'tashatuur."

Limned within the penumbra of violet light, the deep heart of the Darkenwood accedes to the will of
its Master, forest eaves transforming to a window between worlds.

The silken voice of the Dark Father reverberates from everywhere and nowhere, "Then from here, We
will observe. And observe only. Mortals with the stomach to bear witness may do so in silence."

Silence descends in the wake of Divine departure, as Gods vanish into shadowed forests where plumes
of violet smoke billow skyward in dusky invitation.

The rolling Dakhota Hills come alive with kaleidoscopic light, montane shoulders remoulding into
windows of stained glass through which the Wayward Heir gazes upon distant Anachai.

Your vision blurs, clarity breaking apart in bursts of prismatic colour as the voice of Pandora
echoes, "If you are afraid of the dark, you may visit Me, instead, to watch."

Mobilising as one, the planes shudder as Anachaine warrior tribes take up their spears, myriad
hunters holding weapons aloft in chilling expectancy of that which approaches.

A violent detonation shatters your eardrums with the unleashing of volcanic tremors, tectonic shifts
grating against one another and magma discharge flooding Creation's oceans in the coalescence of
Artemis, the Great Wrath within the bounds of Her Realm.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Spare Us the obeisance. There are far more interesting acts to
observe."

Fish and fowl, beast and bird, hunter and hunted become as one to lend singular voice, conjoined
calls ringing out upon every plane and place within the expanse of the All as Lupus, the Wildfather,
Elder God, Lord of the Beasts, the First Predator, gathers His Realm.

The heavens tremble, a violent lurch roiling across the expanse of Creation and shaking the earth as
under Logosian Accord two Divinities face One to Another.

A deathly hush falls across the jungles of Anachai, as for the first time since conception in aeons
past by Ayar's Will its myriad beasts fall silent in anticipation.

Swirling essence gathers about the Wildfather in aurae of radiant light, an argent illumination
pulsing within His frame like veins of poisoned silver.

Ash and smoke coalesce about Artemis, a deluge of meteors darkening the heavens above Anachai in Her
home's acknowledgement of Immortality.

The howl of a distant wolf momentarily silences the crickets.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "The savages are performing some kind of ceremonial rite to lend
strength to the Wrath Goddess."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Patience is, apparently, demanded of Us."

Sleepily shedding the vestiges of shadows, the awoken sun slowly rises in the sky, its resplendence
unfaltering.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Mezghar, "That includes you."

Sartan rolls His eyes.

Mezghar says to Twilight in a measured, basso voice, "I have the most patience out of anyone here.
It is obvious."

Mezghar frowns at Twilight.

Tlalaiad nods His head in a slow, deliberate motion, understanding dawning upon epicene features in
response to an unheard reply.

Sartan, the Malevolent says to Twilight, "I see you continue to coddle the Godling."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Sartan, "Education is hardly coddling. You would know, had You
bothered to attempt it on Your own."

A squirrel skitters through the treetops somewhere above.

Occasional drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "Is that what you are calling it now? Education?"

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Sartan, "Naturally. The War Tsol God must learn assimilation."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "One finds it somewhat amusing that these supposedly devoted
Eleusians so eagerly break bread and spill blood with the residents of Cyrene."

Dunn says to Twilight in a deep, hollow voice, "They are simply transferring the Aegean influence to
Cyrene directly."

Twilight waves His hand dismissively.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "It is foolish to expect consistency or an adherence to history,
I suppose."

Dunn says in a deep, hollow voice, "Personally, I felt Cyrene at its best when the streets flooded
with water and screams."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Dunn, "They still are."

Aegoth says in a menacing voice, "Amazing how Cyrenians only hear and see what they want."

The glassy obsidian of Achaea's innermost ring gleams with a dark lustre in the swiftly advancing
daylight.

Adrik looks sceptical and whispers with a Jaruvian accent, "These birds are not in unison with their
voice with Lord Lupus."

Roiling energies bathe the two Gods in empyrean splendour, the very air crackling with unfathomable
anticipation.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Tlalaiad, "We do not have customs or traditions that One or
Many must observe when We fight. It is a rare thing indeed. Our Brother here has attempted to attack
Me on at least one prior occasion, outside of any agreed-upon duel or conflict."

Twilight makes a dismissive gesture towards Sartan.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "It was not an attack, simply a practice swing."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Then You require more practice. You missed."

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "You are just prone to flee at any sign of actual conflict."

Cold laughter ripples through the trees, devoid of mirth or earnest amusement.

The crackle of lightning accompanies Speaker Colgano Vorondil, Savage Reaper's voice as he shouts,
"Kahui meihj peheata Koemi Anachai."

Minister Irissa Ataraia, Heartwood Sage shouts, "Together we are Your tribe!"

The crackle of lightning accompanies Speaker Colgano Vorondil, Savage Reaper's voice as he shouts,
"Rarahi Fraochim. Matou parakai Tior koema!"

Minister Irissa Ataraia, Heartwood Sage shouts, "Great Wrath Our Strength is Yours!"

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Ah. I did not realise You had taught him Qith. Or is this some
other form of nonsense?"

Occasional raindrops fall on your head as the drizzle continues.

Viridian light surrounds the Great Wrath suddenly, an aura of verdant energy stained crimson with
indignation. Strength wells within Her empowered form, a harrowing scream tearing forth from Her
lips as for the first time She surrenders to Her pain. Her anger. Her sorrow. Her fear.

The Scourge of Calamity proves the end of the memorywrought Grimaldrin, Captain of the Werewolves,
ending at last the rampage of the First Blessed.

Birds fill your ears with serenades of happiness and love.

Scores of enraged Nevaharr fall before the Scourge of Calamity, wielded with merciless fury by She
Who is Wrath.

Forked lightning tears through a legion of Nevaharr, the ire of Nature made manifest.

A stampede of rampaging Nevaharr prepares to charge Artemis, Goddess of the Cataclysm, only to be
consumed by the gaping jaws of the earth.

Lost in the trance of battle, the Goddess of the Cataclysm rips the Scourge of Calamity from the
chest of the last Nevaharr, its invasive presence returned to the memory whence it came.

Fiery light roils and churns within the depths of the Wrath's gaze.

Naked insanity rampages upon the aureate glare of the Wildfather, His hulking frame near to boiling
with the agony and pain of sorrow unacknowledged, sorrow fled from.

Silver sparks dance across the heavens as the dazzling orb of the sun rushes past Achaea's three
rings, the second brilliantly coruscating at its passing.

Flickering shadows dance across Aegoth's face, illuminated by the sputtering blaze housed atop a
kindled staff.

Occasional drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds.

The Dark God falls silent in observation, His ethereal form still.

With a low snarl of anticipation, the Wildfather disappears, reality shrieking about Him in tortured
acquiescence to the mere motion of Divinity, heedless of its effect on Creation or Other.

Driving the Scourge of Calamity about Herself in a sweeping arc of blinding light, the flailing
heads of Her weapon drive into the advancing claws of the bestial, insane God.

Blinding cascades of jagged shards rip and tear within the depths of Anachai, a violent fissure
breaking open upon a volcanic mount as the tortured shriek of a shockwave ripples outward.

Slowly reassembling itself, order returns, the skein of the Weave splintered and crackling beneath
an impossible weight.

An earth-shattering roar rings out in concert with the impact of Artemis, swallowed within a
volcano.

Hailstorms sweep across the Mhojave Desert, the Realm of the Cataclysm roiling and churning with
abandon.

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Liquid magma spews from Anachai's volcanic mountains, roused to calamitous eruption as the Great
Wrath emerges from within the crucible, Her naked form aglow with Divinity unfathomable.

Howling winds accompany Artemis, Her frame blurring into an impossible speed as She advances on the
Wildfather, Her Scourge meeting claw blow for blow as Divine motion denies each God a decisive
strike.

An onslaught of screams spears agony into the depths of your mind, driving all emotion before them
in torrential oppression upon sanity and reason as outlet of conflict between Divinity.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "The Earthmother has demanded yet more sacrifice to bolster
Artemis."

Occasional raindrops fall on your head as the drizzle continues.

Streaks of lightning rip across the firmament, orbiting a pillar of viridian energy above the
Village of Eleusis.

Taryius says in a harsh, rasping voice, "One sacrifice?"

The argent radiance of the moon seeps into the sky, waking the stars as darkness descends over the
land.

An emerald flash blankets the skies of Anachai as mortal and Divine energies meld and converge upon
the Great Wrath.

A strange arachnoi man scuttles in from the north.

Suffused by the blessing of Nature, the shroud surrounding Artemis surges with renewed intensity as
She drives Her spear at the Beast God's neck.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "They are offering lesser energy."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Perhaps."

The Hunter snarls in rage as the Huntress lunges, His arms raised to guard His face and neck.
Artemis feints and abruptly changes course, bringing spear and foot to crash as tremendous thunder
into the Beast God's sternum, the sheer force of the blow hurling Him into distant oceans.

The Realm of the Sea surges beneath the Presence of Elder Divinity infused, Authority unknown since
the days of Caspian wrenching free from constraint.

Oceans surge free from the flesh of the Primordial Beast, His mien growing more horrific with each
passing moment as innumerable fathoms of water evaporate into nothingness and the Realm of Artemis
once more suffers His ancient challenge.

A flood of death near-overwhelms your mind, the cascading fall of uncounted deceased souls from
within the boiled-off oceans of Anachai.

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Wailing death rampages across Anachaine jungle, volcanic eruption a call to war in the renewed clash
of Huntress and Beast.

Staggering free from the terrible, vicious struggle, Artemis reels back from the horrific onslaght
of Divinity unchained, each sweep of the Wildfather's claws raking open weeping rents in Anachaine
air.

Her form swelling into immensity, the Goddess of the Cataclysm reaches into the heavens with both
hands as She dismisses Her Scourge.

Closing about twin stars of Anachai's firmament, the blinding brilliance of empyrean splendour
bleeds freely from Her hands as She brings both down and around, each grasped star a galactic body
become supernovae impacting upon the advance of the swelling Wildfather.

Splashed with the reflected radiance of the stars, Achaea's outermost ring glitters ghostly pale
against the night sky.

The planar fabric of Anachai shudders, the planet tearing itself apart as fissures shatter
continental plates to rend free entire shards of the world from their brethren.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "The mortals are bolstering Her much more than I expected. Impressive."

Glowing lines of entwined Divinity flash but briefly into view, a revelatory splendour upon both
planet and plane as the Realm of Artemis becomes the anvil beneath Cataclysm's hammer.

A cool, refreshing breeze passes through the forest, revitalising all it touches.

A plaintive howl ripples through mind, body, and soul of all who live within Creation's dominion as
the Wildfather staggers back, unfathomable energies of Realm and Divinity splintering into reality
still only half-seen before the Great Wrath's monumental assault.

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"Did You think I had not prepared My home for this?"

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"For Your rampage?"

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament, "I
said You would have Your Hunt, Lupus."

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"And You have had it."

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"Now come to Your senses before I beat them into You."

Twilight scoffs arrogantly.

Sartan smirks.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "She overestimates Herself."

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "Greatly."

Thunderous growls shake Creation with the snarled intonation of the Primordial Beast, a wordless
challenge renewed with His shrugging away of the Cataclysm's threat.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "The failing of all Infants."

A light rain wets your surroundings, falling pleasantly around you.

Creation and Destruction wrought in Elder Days mingles about the figure of the Beast as He drives
His claws forward in a whirling exchange of blow and counterblow.

Twilight nods at Sartan.

Anachai screams beneath the dreadful wrench of the unfathomable, courted by an uncaring God in the
wielding of powers mastered before mortality's dawn.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "The Wild Beast has experience She cannot imagine."

A second array of rents tears the fabric of Anachai to peel back the skein of Wrath and lay bare the
space between planes as the rampaging Beast presses His brutality upon the Huntress, leaving Her
staggering back from the renewed strike even as worlds and star systems crumble beneath each sweep,
their celestial dance extinguished.

Tooth and claw work as one, the rage of the Wildfather unending in its intensity as He seeks the
advantage, pressing forward against the Huntress as She takes up Her spear in defiance, countering
with a frenzied onslaught of slashes and cross cuts.

Solemn yet unrelenting in Her duty, the Spear of Catastrophe whirls in a preternatural blur of
motion as with an almighty yell She lunges forward, the weapon at His throat even as His strength
roils in defence.

For the merest of moments, Artemis, the Great Wrath stumbles...

The Dusk God's eyes snap back to instant alertness, the air crackling in suspense.

A shrieking cacophony pierces the ether as flocks of feathered pouakai swarm the rapidly
deteriorating battlefield in defence of their Goddess, wings drumming against the air in rhythmic
unison as they tear toward the Wild God. Talon and beak clash with ferocious abandon as He swipes at
the avian onslaught, a snarl of victory denied thundering within His throat.

Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to
begin a new day.

Bright green stalks of grass push upward from the ground, flourishing beneath the dark sky.

A malignant sneer courses across predatory features, the sweeping arm of the Primordial Beast
rendering a swarm of pouakai into a gruesome, bloodied burst of flesh and disintegrating feathers.

The God of the Beasts lunges forth, a second deafening thrash impacting against the relentless
assault of Artemis, the Great Wrath as Anachaine skies blaze alight in enmeshed hail, ice, ash, and
meteoric thunderstorm.

Blinding cascades of jagged shards rip and tear within the depths, a torrential deluge of fissures
splintering open as cascading arcs of ancient power torture the strained composition.

Torrents of death fill your mind as unknown masses expire in the splintering plane of Anachai.

Slowly reassembling itself, order returns, the skein of Wrath's home trembling as volcano, hail,
drought, blizzard, and more all present reluctant quiescence.

Legionnaire Atalkez Al'Jafri, Sword of the Morning has battered Korgrith to death.

A strange arachnoi man scuttles in from the southeast.

Ita furrows her brows as she chews idly on her thumbnai, while looking up into the above.

The earth stills with Her falter, fury fading into grim readiness as the Wild God looms over Her,
sensing triumph.

The shadowy arachnoi moves out to the northeast, furred legs moving silently.

Ellryn impishly tells you in Mhaldorian, "Don't drool in public, Adherent."

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"Sister..."

The chirping of crickets surrounds you in a medley of night-time music.

Stirring the undergrowth, the hushed cadence of the Earthmother resonates, "No. You cannot."

Stirring the undergrowth, the hushed cadence of the Earthmother resonates, "You must not, Artemis!"

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"Gaia..."

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament, "I
remember."

Slowly rising to Her feet once more, the defiant features of the Great Wrath shift from fiery fury
into a strange calm as She confronts the snarling figure of the raging, Primordial Beast: Lupus,
Elder God unchained.

The earth rumbles ominously as the voice of Artemis, the Great Wrath, booms across the firmament,
"Come, beast. Take Me."

Force inexplicable drives you from your feet, a clash of heavenly champions swift-closing to a
denouement unfathomable as Huntress and Beast cross a once-sacred boundary, fate and future writ
uncertain upon the tapestry of life and time interminable.

Dunn stands up.

Farrah stands up.

Draqoom stands up.

Mezghar stands up.

Mercer stands up.

You stand up.

Aegoth stands up.

Katalyst stands up.

Mizik stands up.

Kuriel stands up.

Armali stands up.

Minkai stands up.

Ellryn stands up.

Tisiphone stands up.

Adrik stands up.

Elyra stands up.

Caladbolg stands up.

Tisette stands up.

Taryius stands up.

Orzaansyn stands up.

Lulinia stands up.

Ashren stands up.

Zulah stands up.

Axios stands up.

Aliede stands up.

Ita stands up.

Adison stands up.

An owl hoots off in the distance.

The incorporeal form of the Dark Lord recoils visibly as He endures the force of the blow.

The Great Wrath slumps, held upright by her splintered spear braced against the earth, before with a
great heaving thrust and dreadful marshalling of Her strength drives the spear even deeper, beneath
heart and through essence to emerge from the Creature's back and taste air once more.

The Primordial Beast shudders, at last slumping, dwindling, diminishing as the features of Lupus,
the Wild God emerge from the snarling jaws of the First Hunter. Aquiline features reassert, twisted
inhumanity fading from sight as golden iris meets dimming fire drenched in the lifeblood of
Divinity.

Divine blood leaks from the mouth of Artemis as She holds His gaze, grim readiness suffusing Her
features as though daring Him to continue.

His features sad yet accepting, Lupus, the Wildfather bows His head to Artemis in silent
acknowledgement, peace finally settling upon His immortal visage in a return of awareness and
acceptance of Eternity's Will.

Your heart beats in tune with the rhythms of Nature as Lupus, the Wildfather intones, "Thank You."

Creation weeps at the passing of Lupus, the Wildfather, the dance of celestis stilled in its motion
as darkness consumes the heavens.

Sleepily shedding the vestiges of shadows, the awoken sun slowly rises in the sky, its resplendence
unfaltering.

With a final exhalation, the Great Wrath slumps, Her fire dimming for the last time.

Creation weeps at the passing of Artemis, Goddess of the Cataclysm, the dance of celestis stilled in
its motion as darkness consumes the heavens.

Thrown asunder from the surest of footing, the dread throes of volcanic earth splinters land and
sea, star and sky in a single unfathomable, tremendous convulsion as all of Anachai violently,
shatteringly, irrefutably breaks, its seams shaking at the utmost limit as myriad threads somehow
snap, a tear in the patterns of Fate rewoven.

Draqoom stands up.

Dunn stands up.

Mizik stands up.

Zulah stands up.

Armali stands up.

Aegoth stands up.

Mezghar stands up.

Caladbolg stands up.

You stand up.

Farrah stands up.

Katalyst stands up.

Adrik stands up.

Taryius stands up.

Minkai stands up.

Mercer stands up.

Elyra stands up.

Ellryn stands up.

Tisette stands up.

Aliede stands up.

Ita stands up.

Orzaansyn stands up.

Lulinia stands up.

Ashren stands up.

Axios stands up.

Kuriel stands up.

Adison stands up.

A stream of crackling crimson fire sizzles across the sky.
Saelily has been slain by the might of Pandora, the Wayward Heir.

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "That was not an equal exchange."

Rising into darkened, empty heavens, an outpouring of brilliantine energy erupts into sky and sea
enshrouding shattered realms, nestled betwixt their embrace from first manifestation across all the
ages of mortality to coalesce in reflection of life's cycle.

Cataclysmic lightning and meteoric thunder spears skyward and free from branches of a fresh-born
tree, flooding and dissipating into the depths of the celestial vault.

The howl of a wolf sings out across the heavenly expanse, its lone cry a mourning of eternal absence
forevermore.

Molten light floods into the depths, a radiant aura and reverberating glow coursing across and
through the roots of that which lies beneath.

The plane of Anachai has perished by the Will of the Ultimate, leaving naught but fragments to drift
within empty heavens.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "A waste."

Great tremors shake the Heart of the Vashnars, splintering both crux and crust of the very earth as
ancient root and forgotten soil make known their primal grief, dense vines crawling out from crack
and seam to mourn the passing of She-who-was-Propasia.

Raw horror and the unfathomable torment of the Earthmother howls its passage through the depths of
your soul, thrashing in a spasm of shattered dreams, incarnate woe, the bleak edge of anguish writ
in thought and action in a dreadful sear upon immortal spirit and eternal heart.

Hoarfrost cloaks your features in the tears of ice-frozen water, falling snow from a suddenly
-clouded sky now stealing all brightness and light from the world in the descending rime of sorrow
and sadness, despair and pain, mourning and misery and the agony of a broken heart. Winter has come,
aforetime and unending in the Earthmother's grief.

Sombre soughing cascades the length of the breadth of the Darkenwood, cold winds whistling amidst
the boughs and cedars as the window betwixt worlds snaps shut.

Tlalaiad, The Genesis says, "We forewarned of this ending."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "It was Her choice."

Sartan, the Malevolent says, "One less Godling to foul Creation."

Mizik says, "We will be prepared to pay our respects."

Aegoth smirks at Mizik.

The God of Darkness makes a dismissive gesture of acquiescence to Evil's remark.

Twilight raises His fists above His head. Concentrating briefly, He causes rippling crimson fire to
flow from the heavens above into a ball of energy between His upraised fists. Scornfully, He throws
His fists forward, sending a beam of crackling energy to incinerate Elyon.
Elyon has been slain by the might of Twilight, the God of Darkness.

The blazing light of the sun passes briefly behind the triune rings of Achaea, speckling the sky
first in obsidian, then silver, then pearly white.

Armali says sourly with an aristocratic Hashani accent, "Death is a shallow punishment for those
that Ugrach sends back."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Yet it remains one feared by multitudes nonetheless."

With taciturn malice Sartan nods His head at Twilight.

Twilight, the God of Darkness says to Tlalaiad, "There will doubtless be some sort of funeral or
service to mark the fallen. You are not obliged to attend, but if good will is sought among the
Garden, You may wish to consider it."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "A grim fate. Some may view it as mercy for the maddened wolf.
Yet that is not for Artemis - nor the Mother of Life - to decide."

Twilight, the God of Darkness says, "Arrogance begets destruction. Ignorance yields only pain. A
lesson for you all upon which to ruminate."