Manikaz has fully turned his attention to the keystone now. A pup, staring with longing eyes at a raw bone. I've asked him to pivot his efforts to revitalizing it, hopeful that it may be powerful enough to open the gate, and he has taken the challenge gladly. He has found renewed passion, or encouragement, and perhaps I was too critical when he asked to leave the human village intact. To allow them to thrive and dwell so close to our monument of victory felt wrong, but I can admit my mistake. The village will serve as a farm now, blood to be cast upon the new stone. And ever since that man arrived—Saul, with those proud, oblivious eyes—he's commanded his followers to hand us offerings as one may leave food at the altar of their god. We are their gods, and their devotion is sweet. Fully powered, the keystone may allow us to open the gate—which has proven stubborn at best. We feed the stone what we can, and thus the gate, and yet it refuses to budge. As is the way of ancient magics, which are particular in their needs. And yet, we've no choice but to continue. If this works, we can forgo the promise of prophecy.