I have dropped My so-called “father”s name like mud and bricks hurled through windows.
Whispered plans late at night, huddled around small fires; the fight against injustice raged on, and they had forgotten you. Those who lived in palaces and had–no, forced–the worship of millions.
At least there in barren streets, in sun-burnt houses made of clay, you clung to Light, to Hope, to the balance that once was. But that was years ago, the Two Lands have stagnated, become stuck in times long past, when blood ruled and sacrifice reigned.
The Lord of Dread indeed, you say to Me now, in a sunlit morning by the sea, and what were we to him?
To him you were to be broken, only pots to be smashed and put back together, and your terror was made greater by this foreign King who offered you your freedom. Yet you took this King’s hand and fled in a stolen moment across the sea, across the stars, to a place you’d only heard rumors of, whispers passed from fire to fire. From a spark of desperation to outright rebellion, you fled to the ships while the King’s Hound gave chase.
There was death, there was loss (there always is, in times like this) and a long, long journey in which you could reach up and place your hands near the stars themselves.
You brought your traditions, but not your gods. Not those who had brought chaos and death, those who had abandoned you and ripped away your children to be servants of your so-called King. Those who lived in “glory” and yet forgot their own people, who thought nothing of breaking, and even less of mending, of scars tainted in gold being the only reward, never mind that gold tarnishes and scars burn with the past.
You trust Me more now, having listened to this tale and not flinched, nor defended my “father” in any way. I have removed the chaos and violence that My red hair screams of, and My Crown is made of flowers (like the ones your children wove into My hair at the Festival of Hearts) that it must be kept up and looked after.
Summer is here, in a matter of days it will descend upon Darkness. Together we will light the sandstone streets you now call Home, and the sea will sing songs of stars and devotion.