[!] An unmarked letter, written upon ancient parchment, finds its way to another within the heart of Luminion. One destined to read the contexts. A warning from one unknown, to another. A reminder.
There are rivers that remember the shape of obedience. They do not shout. They do not stain. But they know the flow of every tributary and when one runs cold.
You mistook the silence for forgetfulness.
I have fed centuries into thrones of bone and brilliance. I have watched stars blink and drown without lifting a hand. But when the blood turns sluggish when it coils instead of flows it is not death that follows. It is a correction.
There are petals that bloom only once, beneath moons that have no name. You were one. Brief, bright, and brittle.
A lantern set too low begins to cast shadows I do not permit.
I see you. I have always seen you.
But you have forgotten what it means to hold the gift granted to you. To allow your own power to slip from under your feet. To be questioned and those loyal no longer wish to bend the knee. A skill valued by those you serve.
As the moon's embrace rises and shadows cast across your world, know that there are whispers of what you are and speculations are being made.
Rest well mad king.
[!] There are no marks to indicate who this letter is from, or who it is for. Those who know. Know too well the meaning behind these maddening scribbles.
There are rivers that remember the shape of obedience. They do not shout. They do not stain. But they know the flow of every tributary and when one runs cold.
You mistook the silence for forgetfulness.
I have fed centuries into thrones of bone and brilliance. I have watched stars blink and drown without lifting a hand. But when the blood turns sluggish when it coils instead of flows it is not death that follows. It is a correction.
There are petals that bloom only once, beneath moons that have no name. You were one. Brief, bright, and brittle.
A lantern set too low begins to cast shadows I do not permit.
I see you. I have always seen you.
But you have forgotten what it means to hold the gift granted to you. To allow your own power to slip from under your feet. To be questioned and those loyal no longer wish to bend the knee. A skill valued by those you serve.
As the moon's embrace rises and shadows cast across your world, know that there are whispers of what you are and speculations are being made.
Rest well mad king.
[!] There are no marks to indicate who this letter is from, or who it is for. Those who know. Know too well the meaning behind these maddening scribbles.
Woah. Another Edgy Letter. Woah. Gamer
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