Dire days. Damned days... The gilded who've traveled through the veil have built an immunity to the gate's poison, but the gildless are vulnerable. They're falling ill by the day... By the hour... They've been maddened! Our children! Otho has left the city now—I suspect to protect his kin—leaving myself and Manikaz to our work. And the Arch Steward is silent. I admittedly have little urge to continue, myself, and the Blood Phenom never leaves his laboratory. I can smell it from the library. Was bringing the gate here an act of desperation? Was there ever hope for us, and is prophecy unpreventable?