"We sometimes fail. We sometimes succeed. Who determines one from the other?
I now know we can never be made One, if we are bore of differing desires.
And yet, I have hope for a new truth. And I will see it... made real."
- The Benevolent Dreamer

Fire destroys, but fire also purifies.
Life always springs anew.

"With piercing eyes, you saw through the Stillness.
Undulating as one, you gloriously covered all in white.
But... I can bear you no longer."
The Dreamer whispered with fogging breath, ice creeping down his hand.

Darkness howls through ancient bones, a wistful cry
on hollow winds. The moon listens. The pack gathers.

Rare is the Necromancer who leads
his undead armies from the front.

Tale-women may not fight directly,
for they have a much higher purpose.

"When the Third Pact was written in stone, the Dreamer gave the alliance of men and
beasts knowledge. In return, they gave him a drop of blood; one from each of the
races of Wraeclast. In the centuries that followed, his Will began to subtly change."
- Book of the Benevolent Dreamer, Histories 220:5

"Deep in thought, you would tremble the very air before you.
Wreathed in light, you nurtured them all.
And yet... Your nature became you."
The Dreamer mused with aching heart, as remnants of forking tendrils burst forth.