### As you pick up the essence, a flood of sensations fills your mind. *The stink of rabble, rough spear in clenched fists, chittering terror, skittering feet on slick floor, helplessness, resignation.* Forward. Prod the foul beasts. The whines, incessant. Forward. Forward. Numbing, the repetition. The wall must be fed. Security requires sacrifice. Impossible alone, even for the highest. Not Heitor. Not Ignaxious. Not Labris. Not the king himself. The rising bile of fear. Do they detect its scent? Thoughts must remain thoughts. Not spoken. Forward! All that will be spoken. Forward! To essence, low ones. Become essence. Become the wall. Feed the barrier. Be our fog. Be our poison. Sacrifice. A must to shield Nayos. Protect the people. Piercing, the screams. Forward!