8
There is no comparison to that sparkle beginning another dive behind the mountains cast low before your tower of victory. To rest after the toil of vengeance, the beauty of your conviction complete. So that star sets again on another era, part of an eternal compendium of The vengeance. Inscribed within this legacy, another participation in a grand doctrinal tradition. They have paid for their sins – with blood. That is the cycle of The form, natural it is.
Soon this avenger so inscribed will finally be faced with the cost of their own vengeance, though they never see it coming. By this, The form is maintained.
The sun always sets.
“There is a great emptiness now that the peace of darkness casts itself over the landscape. Vengeance never cleanses my anger, it is no water to wash away my resentment. It is cast within my bones by The form, one with this hardened clay shaped by the potter’s hands. Now regret surfaces as the teal of The form begins its soft glow. What have I released from these ancient forms? Regret permeates every sense, it only truly consumes us when the action becomes irreversible, always just a moment too late. If only it could have notified me sooner.”
