I have become the instrument of death, the so called god of the name. I care not for this honor, I care not of its goals or desires...all I care about is the power. By the might of my own power, I carry this god into battle. I need not prove myself to it, it must prove itself to me. Well god of death, show me what you got.

Form the shards of tattered dreams I woke, tossed upon tides of pain the ebbed and flowed through me leaving me searingly awake, but more surprisingly alive.