To Win An Empire

[Mouse]

With nary a few words, a spark is born.

With barely a push, a flame ignites.

With only a wave of my hand, a fire burns hot.

And now, we wait for the inferno.

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That folder, once left open to a message to nobody important, finds its way left open again. Cast to the side as if in a hurry, pages ripped out as letters were sent and messages cast throughout the Kingdom, throughout Esshar. The page is stained with remnants of old wine, and the culprit is clear, a thousand empty bottles stacked in the corner of a room. The person writing clearly has a problem, or has developed one in a short time.

This time, the writing on the page contains a bit more of a sloppy prose, a bit of ink blotted where the quill could not find the proper word to begin. Instead of a letter, this is more of a question, one that has been asked multiple times over the course of the last few pages..

This page is no different, it seems.
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Step Two, Waning Gibbous: A Spark, A Flame, A Fire

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We all agree on one thing. In the name of progress, nothing is too much.

Will you still welcome me home, Father? In my efforts to rid myself of past sins, have I committed more atrocities in the process?

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Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

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Tanya Volkova