Hail, Sapients.

After so many years and sermons, it is strange to address you without a sermon or moral lesson in mind. Instead, I have a more sobering message to deliver.

This world is vast, verdant, and holds within it a great wellspring of potential; but this potential is wasted, far too often. It is wasted upon the Ashtani, who seek the ravings of madness in vain hopes that destruction will be swift. It is wasted upon the Eleusians, who seek to hold back the advancement of civilized mortals as a whole. And it is wasted upon a Dawnspear who will bend their wills to match the demands of defenseless, weak, backwater villages.

Let this be made clear; I renounce Targossas. I renounce Good. I renounce the Bloodsworn and the gift of Devotion that I guarded for seven decades. I renounce forgiveness, mercy, and the laxity of discipline that I allowed to envelop my own life within that city.

May the Malevolent One lead, for we are all fated to either follow or perish.

In exile,

Aodfionn

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Glacian, in the year 733 AF.