Within the petrified flesh, a slow steady pulse can still be felt. Though few remember the name of Vatra, those who do wait patiently for her blessings. For the stone endures in silence and even when it breaks, it will one day be reformed.
The flame burns impossibly. Shadows appear to grow and stretch in its cold, blue brilliance. Within one’s grasp, it begins to feel as if a hopeless, endless night will threaten even the brightest day.
This censer is not unlike those once favored by the Children of Infinity. If one peers inside, they may glimpse figures gliding like apparitions through the smoke.
The Children of Infinity embraced paradox. Through death they were reborn. They arose as Sesters and brethers unbound from their flesh. Time itself has no hold on them. And in their freedom they only grew more heedless.
When the sheep first returned to Fainweald many rejoiced. They gave thanks to the herders who shared their bounty. They hardly even noticed when their neighbors began to disappear. Why worry when your belly is full?
The crown of Winterglass remains perfectly preserved. While worn, one feels a faint memory stir. A whispered message, "Change is the enemy. It is the small death that leads to the annihilation of infinity."
At first glance, the words inside appear no more than a series of scratches and strikes without reason or purpose. And yet the closer one looks, the more a pattern seems to emerge.
In a tiny scrawl, an inscription has been carved into this key: “Our fair lady is as strong as the oxen, wise as the trees, and brilliant as the sunrise.”
A reverberation from the Underglade that mends wounds and knits flesh anew. There is no question that the Harbinger has been bred for a task no mortal could undertake.
