I see ranks ready for battle, stretching out. Five, six horses across, ranks in formation. Endlessly.

We fouled up. I did. He got hurt. Badly, maybe. And the god...is not helping him today.

The Fates are here because of supernal anger, celestial imbalance, and arrogance of men and gods that must be curbed.

But she has found real love, and love can heal and save.

‎For Tempus...was a dozen storm gods' avatar; no army he sanctified could know defeat; no war he fought could not be won. Combat was life to him; he fought like the gods themselves.

You must become like yourself.

Life to you, Riddler, and everlasting glory.