An invitation

[CurledSpiral]

A proclamation is given, carried through work of mouth to the southlands. Carried on the tongues of heralds of all manner.

A response to the written word, one that was unique to each listener but the thread remained.

A thread of bull-headed tenacity.

 

And the ringing of a bell, in homage to the end of life.

"Keep the stomach, you can have the left-overs within it as a parting gift.

 

The bell, could you hear the ringing of the bell? No, of course not. You're but a mortal, a flicker, a spec in the grand scheme of things.

 

But you don't grasp something, life is not the ringer of that bell that honor is Mortyls and her eyes remain ever fixated upon me. Gazing upon that which cannot die, that which has survived the end of life.

 

Again.

And.

Again.

If she can not claim me.

What hope do you have?

 

You've done something though, defeating me is a task worthy of adulation. Enjoy it while you can little mortal, because while you wither to dust. While your people die to the blades of light and to the claws of my Legion.

While your name is consigned to the footnotes of my legend like so many others.

I am eternal.

I am inevitable.

 

And I will see you and all you hold dear ground to dust."