♫♪
High up in the desolate skies where Dreadfort Demetrius concealed the sun, stood a veiled figure at the edge of it. There was this uncertain chokehold of the air and for a time the future halted its inevitable march - until a foreboding swarm of ravens shot up from behind them like wings of rage, each bird carrying a piece of its Lord's message that fluttered down throughout the city's windy streets like a diseased snowfall of papers. Within its passages was inked psalms of mockery.
You underestimated me.
You underestimated me, undervalued me, disregarded me, discarded me.
You did all this and more.
Tough in crowds, but easy to fold when you're alone.
Only a month ago - I was just a seamstress to you. And now, my name alone is enough to spell change. Lament and bleat that 'we care, we always cared for you' all you wish, but when was that care when I was around?
My beloved friends who watched me fade and were all the quicker to forget - that sweet seamstress you've all walked over - she's not coming back. But it's okay, because although no amount of regret can stitch back the wounds you've torn open, I'll make sure you won't forget me this time.
We, the degraded, have been offered as sacrifices to your altar of luxuries and social conquers for too long. Where we took the brunt of your failures, you basked in the successes that should've been ours. Your neglect for your lesser men took us down, and it was only the Divine Desprince Xilthruum that has broken my fall where the Everwatcher failed. My God walks with me, while yours sit and watch your failures in content silence.
This is by no means our fault. You taught us this hatred, you taught us to play by your rules, and most importantly, you taught us to overcome you. We did the same that you've done to us. Your privilege to cry about it has long expired. This garden of decadence is now ours to raze, and from its soil we will grow a new Everwatch. We aren't sick, we are mad.
My existence is the divine intervention that will help you see things for what they really are. Allow me the honors to welcome you to a new Regalia rinsed anew in blood by the hands of our God, where there are no Emperors, and the Everwatcher stays blind to your punishment.
O Regalia, join hands with me and let us sing a choir of our hatred to you, for this city isn't lovely and neither are its people.
Glory be to the Solifugae,
and to our Divine Desprince Xilthruum
