### Brushing up against the essence, an old memory swirls through your mind. *Anticipation. Impatience. A sudden waft from opening doors.* Founders enter. An empty table. Nephus. Steely. Formal. Still armed. Mosyn. Hovering, jovial. Her charisma, enviable. Febe. Thundering. Ponderous. An unreadable slate. Aurkus. From shadow. Watching everything. Everyone. All expectant. Curious. Skeptical. Lacking vision. I provide. Isgarren's candor, matching and mirroring. Matching? No! Eclipsing. Febe's stare pierces, judging. Like the seer. Aurkus whispers. Mind dances. A web forms. Motive. Fear. Fear for Nayos. Fear for our Kryptis. The fires of anger, stoked. Back to Tyria. To his tower. He will regret. He will collapse. He will beg before *my* resplendence.