Her feather pen dips once in the dark ink, drawing another symbol upon the whritted pages.
It all reoccurs again... and again. The wheel turning to the same point as it begun. Perhaps this place was home al along after al...The distinct smell of rotting wood, sweat and blood that fills the village that resides beneith the outer shell that is "The Cage". The true nature of Sigil City of doors...
There must always be darkness in the world. Malificence spawned from al that is wrong. And once again it needs to be guided. No longer resides any dark shroud of power over the distinct corners of this void that is the Undersigil...Shadow factions push and draw, meager political strifes tearing without proper structure... I wonder who will take power now with this vacuum apearant...An invitation of a throne promising power, but also filled with death for one not ready to take on such a role.
The time has come for somone to rise. I shall wait for that moment and when that moment comes...When "The one" stares into the inevitable abyss...I hope that one does not heasitate...to leap!
