He has gone silent. At long last, he has finally ceased his mad mutterings.
It was inescapable. No matter where we tread, where we hid, where we sought solace, his mutterings found us. Even when we splintered, his voice wrapped around our heads like a snake, squeezing every other thought into warped shapes. I could not hear God's whispers with such constant noise.
I dare not visit him now. I want only to escape this prison and punish that insolent blasphemer, Caeserius, for her foolishness. Then, perhaps, I will return here with an army, and take the Atlas. What better show of faith is there than the establishment of a nation in God's name? And then? Whatever God whispers.
He has shown me a door. The stones. The paths they reveal. I need only find the right key.
God almighty, I am your servant. I am your sword. I am yours, mind, body, and soul, and I promise I will deliver unto you all you wish to have.
