Shade of Hellos, you’ve lingered far too long.
Wept dry tears after sorrow turned bitter.
Swallowed a rock that settled in your gut.
But I now see your barricades crumbling.
For I’ve kindled a small fire in the dark,
by a tiny corner den in your heart.
Extinguish it you may try, but white fire never dies.
And grow it will into a conflagration.
And burn it will all rotten deadwood.
Melting the sap that suffocates the air so.
Opening that canopy that kept you low.
Till all that remains is red ashes and charcoal.
Fertile grounds for a new life and soul.
So awaken now young seedling, become the tree of life.
Grow tall and dig deep for there will be strife.
The shade no longer hides the sand.
Hellos now shines across the land.
Jeremiah had many guises. In past lives, he had been a sorcerer, assassin, mystic, warlord, and baron. His pact with the Krovikian Order gave him eternal life but at a steep cost. Beneath the temple lie a vast catacomb of phylacteries that housed the faithful’s souls. Such bonds tied Jeremiah to the syndicate for millennia until his latest reincarnation. Fortunately, the purification process had failed to eradicate his fledgling vessel’s soul which remarkably started re-coalescing through sheer force-of-will. Katarina was its self-name and he would use her to break both his imprisonment and the Order’s grip on the world.
“Tis a waste”, Abaddon exclaimed. “So much potential, only to be bottled up and cast into the depths. It rotted him from within.”
“Indeed, avarice turned him foul and his demeanor acidic. A miser he fell with the passage of time, the enemy that could not be preserved.”
“A gilded cage would not staunch such decay. Did he take his wealth to his grave?”
“No, a change of heart transpired by death’s door. He gave his majority to the orphanage.”
“Ah, so he realized but moments late. A saint he would have been. No soul can be caged.”
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