Each soul has its appointed doom. How is it you dare to raise a mortal boy so high - high enough to flout the gods? Bring godhead where a man may reach out and take it? growls Enlil, and lightning splits a clear blue sky.

Tempus wanders eternally, bringing death to whomever loves him and being spurned by whomsoever he shall love.

Only from chaos does order come. The angry Fates bring death where they will, when war is king, says Enlil, storm god of the armies, and the tip of his crown rends the clouds above their heads. "Wheresoever I rule, death comes shambling after. So it has always been, is, and will be."

Arrows are cheap; you're expensive.

Vengeance is disappointing, always.

Shed your mortal skin and let me take you beneath the waves.

Every man heals himself.