Achamian tossed his hands skyward in dismay. “Foolish boy! How many faiths are there? How many competing beliefs? And you would murder another on the slender hope that yours is somehow the only one?

Darkness shields as much as it threatens.

Gods are but greater demons, the Cishaurim said, hungers across the surface of eternity, wanting only to taste the clarity of our souls. Can you not see this?

Exhaustion has a way of parting the veils between men, not so much because the effort of censoring their words exceeds them, but because weariness is the foe of volatility. Oft times insults that would pierce the wakeful simply thud against the sleepless and fatigued.

Something ... made him feel small, not in the way of orphans or beggars or children, but in a good way. In the way of souls.

Here we find further argument for Gotagga’s supposition that the world is round. How else could all men stand higher than their brothers?

The world has long ceased to be the author of your anguish.