My end is near, and my hours are numbered in this dark and fetid cell.

I am Titus Dubrick. I have dedicated my entire life to serving my lord, and it is precisely for this reason that I now find myself writing these final words, with the kind concession of the moon, which even here in the abyss, faint and fragile, illuminates me.

This sheet is short, but my blood is plentiful, so I shall be concise. And you, my future and unfortunate reader, will listen to my delirium and a final dedication to my master, the Indomitable, the Crimson Herald.

In my long life of 76 years, I have been many things, but the most important, I suppose, is having been a count, a noble title passed down through eight generations. But this is not the time to delve into the history of my family and its rise. I inherited my title from my father, and along with it, I inherited something else: the love and worship of my lord. Indeed, the ancient Dubrick family has always been and will always be loyal only to him. After all, we earned the title of count in war and blood. He has always guided us, and we have risen on his crimson chariot of steel. I am revealing this secret to you because it is no longer a secret. Officially, I am the last Dubrick still alive, and my fate is to be judged by the royal court and the magical council. Death and humiliation await me.

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Mages, no longer deities, towers, and councils now stand alongside kingdoms and empires where once churches and temples rose.

They seek truth and knowledge, preaching to be atheists and free from all mental constraints. And so began the crusades and the annihilation of every church and cult.

But I confide in you that all of them are ridiculous and hypocritical. I laugh at them because what they adore and seek, all their knowledge, is nothing but the name of another god—one they pray to with every experiment and research, one they idolize with every tower erected, its sacred texts studied and transmitted in academies.

Is it not comical? Those who forbade god to man are the most fervent followers. The greatest atheists are the most faithful of these times.

But one day, they will build a tower that will be too high, and it will finally point its silver eye upon them—blessing or curse, for along with its gaze will come its gift. Dangerous is the Omniscient, for it is the bearer of madness, the one who sees all and distorts all, the Silver Herald.

My lord, my life is over, but my faith burns as never before. It is fierce and hot like the fire you ignite in the world. Wherever you pass, you bring conflict and struggle. Life and evolution are your daughters, for life is struggle. You burst into the world as war. No one can tame you; few ride you, but their end is like that of all others—to be trampled under your relentless gallop.

I will run forward with my head held high, even if a wall of steel awaits me.

Titus Dubrick