Men make their own fates - it's personal, not a matter for debate.

Every man's in his own hands, with a little help from his brothers.

You're not one to take lightly, to love of for an evening and leave of a dawn.

For the gift of life, the only true thanks was in living fully, and facing death with honor.

You're talent, and we're the talent scouts.

Now the Fates are here on the beach, three shadows blacker than black, walking through the dunes and looking for their own. Just shadows, lamb-white hands beneath black robes spun of tears, glide among the celebrants on this night wherein the spirits of Thebes have found a home, if serendipitously.

Bandara was not an easy place to return to: it could hide from the common worlds whose periphery it inhabited. But Bandara never had, in all its years, completely disappeared.