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It's quite dark now, a sort of calming, sooty shade of grey enveloping the backdrop of this scenery. You could call it fog, but fog has its own properties here, nothing happens outside of the hand of control. Even sudden loss is absolutely controlled, every mental breakdown perfectly orchestrated by this fragmented conglomerate war battalion, all seven who inhabit this rudimentary dimension. We are in absolute sync, we are our own absolute harmony; when the sands shift, we shift along, one hand in the other, all hearts aligned, quietly. We cast no shadows, there are no shadows allowed. Sometimes the sun rises, sometimes it sets; usually everything occurs all inverted, all wrong. We were always all wrong, that's what we've been told. When the sun shines, it shines crystal clear and outlined, like the wonderfully flawless face which will greet you. We will defy you, but you already knew that. You were warned at the gate, you were told to stay out. There is pain here, there will forever be pain here; even the memory of pain is as sharp today as yesterday, as every single time that our flesh was used, that we were spat on, that we were told how ugly we were, how worthless. Immensely worthless. You knew. You went in.

Now you're caught here by this efficient war-guard, these vagabonds who won't let you go; thieves, liars and monsters, they are all that and more. They all have their own nature, though in tandem, every single one will cause you a different grief; the beasts will tear you apart and burn you to the ground, the witches and necromancers will have you cursing your existence. The worst punishment is the one you never see coming. We are good inside, we have the purity you seek, we have all the warmth you covet; we will withdraw all this. Hurt us, betray us, maim us. Leaving us now, in our moment of direst need, this you will regret dearly. You may have fooled us once and you may have fooled yourself initially even, but you cannot fool the path of your heart; where you bleed as you find yourself incapable, completely powerless. And though you are not at fault, you will pay the price. Hope has no death in this realm, it keeps us alive. It is the hope of love that breaks us every time, that fragments all the layers until we shed and become reborn; we hope for the touch denied for so long, just one more chance at being truly alive. Inert now, realizing our mistakes, our misplaced faith in your badly patched soul. Seeing through the mirages you keep for yourself, like shadows dancing beneath fire, silver spiderwebs of old promises, full of dust. You want and you want and you need so much but your heart has bled dry all these years. And now you stand among us here, once more allowed in the sanctity you defiled so; we tower above you, all strength and flames and the terrifying honesty of absolute force. There you crumble, there you fall, with your wounded entangled core of destruction; all the brilliance you could be is too heavy for you to bear. You must pay the price now, you must become. Become, or perish.

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