It is upon each soul to recognize its limit.

You've been playing gods-and-witches again, that's clear.

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

If, as Niko asks, you show them mercy, then the gods will be well pleased.

"Mercy is not in favor in my heavens today," says Vashanka, unforgiving and combative, folding vast arms and spearing Harmony with lightning that crackles from his gaze.

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.