Epilogue 4: The Forgotten Psyker

That Psyker, Ceres, should have died. He was destined to, preplanned, and tragically required to be eliminated for the sake of the future he saw. But of course, those pompous, those arrogant and foolishly prideful Eldar had to ruin it. For the sake of pulling their own cosmic strings. To selfishly tug on fate to force it into their benefit. How such long lived creatures had no sense of...

The hooded figure simply sighed. No. In truth he was no better. He would go to such extreme lengths as this to ensure that what he designed for the future was what would come to pass. The future he had been working towards for so long. All it took was the simplest of missteps or changed variables to cause catastrophe, and so he took every measure he could. He had thought that talking with the Craftworld Eldar beforehand would at least dissuade them from fecking with his plans, but it seemed they ignored his warning. He already destroyed all of the Dark Eldar that dared even come near the sector. He turned the Faceless Legion into such ferocious hunters of their kin that they stopped appearing, and he made sure to leave no survivors to send a clear message to those opportunistic slavers that the sector wasn't worth the cost. They were supposed to be the hard ones to convince, and it took the lives of thousands of their horrid, putrid ilk to be crushed and sent to the hell they made for themselves. Every soul stone was broken, shattered and tossed to the wind, every intact body burned and held at the stake within their very ships before raids. Their vessels tossed into space and left adrift with traps to destroy those that tried to reclaim them.

Needless to say, the Dark Eldar had long since moved away for easier prey, and those that did attempt to come again were promptly dealt with and destroyed. But the two Craftworlds that floated along this sector of space, despite all of it, decided to act against him. For all of the hatred he had towards those particular Xeno, he would have preferred they simply minded their own business. But it seemed the temptation of self-preservation was too much for them. Farseer Luthwin, whom the figure personally met with, would answer to this grave mistake for turning his back on this promise. It surprised him, for the Farseer allowed the demise of the Dark Elder to pass without repercussion, a decision that somehow seemed difficult in the xenos eyes, despite his utter disdain and disgust of that sect. The figure should have known that it was just another lie, as Eldar were known to make. All Eldar were above everything else in the universe, that is what they all believed, and the life of just one of their own was worth the entirety of worlds. Such arrogance! They forced his hand, and now it came to this.

Ah well, he would show them the gravity of such decisions swiftly, for it was far more than apparent the reality of the matter. They did not know what he was, and in truth he hardly understood it himself. But he was a force on par with their extinction, and if they so much as tempted him, he would bring it to the current day and time. He cared not for their souls, they deserved to rot in the belly of the great thirster, tortured and tormented for all eternity. Such was the punishment they built for themselves, and so eagerly attempted to forgo.

He took a deep breath as he leaned against one of the many metallic crates of the transport he waited in. He had already killed the crew, their blood splattered along the walls and the floor. Limbs and armor tossed to and fro. It was a mess really, and not nearly as clean as he usually did, but the bastards refused to die. Their very souls tossed up and down in his right hand, the three soul stones bright pink as they glowed helplessly, trying to fruitlessly get into his head. They were just the beginning. Today was a special day for this particular Craftworld, for today they were going to link with their sister colony, in the cycle they have repeated every hundred years along this sector of space. A perfect example was to be had, and he would make it clear the gravity of their mistake.

The door to the transport opened as several Eldar walked in, momentarily shocked by the sight before them. Only one of them was of the warrior cast, and was the quickest to react. The others being regular workers likely sent to get the cargo. The figure crushed the soul stones he held in his hand as a terrible screech emanated from them, the souls lost to their fate. The very event giving pause to the terrified Eldar before him, something they hadn't felt for a long time, genuine fear. Who was this intruder? How did they kill the crew of the transport? How could they possibly get onboard? The soul stones… how could they crush it? Ha! Like they had much the chance to think these things. The Eldar were incredibly fast, physically powerful and with incredible mental capacities, but the figure did not play by their rules. To fight an Eldar successfully was to stoop to their level or suffer death, for there was no honor in it if one wanted to survive. So, before any of the Eldar had even a chance to ponder, they were already dead. The sole member of the warrior cast held by his broken neck, pressed against the wall of the transport firmly by the figure. He did not wish to play around today, and he would not humor them. Certainly, he would waste an incredible amount of energy, but he was willing to do that. The Eldar would die.

He forcefully ripped off the soulstone from around the warrior's neck, throwing it to the ground and smashing it with his boot. He hated the chaos gods, all of them. But of them all he especially hated that lustful demon the most. Today though let her feast, for it was on the souls of these foolish Eldar.


Farseer Luthwin was paranoid, anxious and uncertain of the current day. Emotions that one so far down on this path should not have. He had warned the rest of the Council to not take lightly the vision that he had had. Well, vision as far as he had told them, but his run in with that enigma deeply troubled him. The promise that he made was broken, and he had no hint towards the consequences. Despite how hard he tried to glimpse into the future. He was the head of his Craftworlds Council, a prestigious and powerful position that demanded and earned much respect from all. But even that was not enough to overcome his brethren's desire for glory and the reaffirming of their races dominance. Thus, he relented to allowing such a monumental mistake unfold, as they changed the weave of fate once more.

His Craftworld, Te'Fa, was one which had always relied on the sight of the future to drive its decisions. A curse which almost completely destroyed them on countless occasions, only barely allowing for them to escape, and often with sacrifice. For every weave they changed within the warp, every future action they plotted and performed, destiny changed. They tried to command the very whims of fate, to determine their path ahead of them by force and strive not in the present but in the future. This was no life for they pursued only endings. It was a task that was impossible to contain and comprehend, for every action caused surprising reactions responded, and far too often ended in more dire consequences than expected. All it served was to worsen the reality around them, to make the universe a murkier place. The actions taken that were based on future sight often helped their enemies more than themselves. While they would survive, the state of entire systems and sectors would be changed, immeasurable threats and unintended boons provided to those that should not have had them. If Humans were killed, then Orks took their place, and vice versa. If tyranids were diverted to another system the hive grew from its feast. If the Imperium was damaged so was the buffer which distracted all the other races from the Eldar. Such were only basic examples, and the reality was the Elder hardly benefited from any of them.

It was unnatural, and it only barely benefited them, a dying race, by letting them live but a while longer before they had to do it again. Last cycle, they had killed a rogue trader who was destined to kill a small crew of Eldar warriors that were destined to venture out on a quest to seek an old relic. What this resulted in, as he and his fellow Farseers later saw, was the Ork presence increasing in the sector nearly tenfold, which would cause several ships of Eldar to be destroyed. Or they would have been, had they not then assassinated the local warboss to prevent such a rise of power. Only for a stray tyranid hive ship to locate the part of the sector they were in due to preventing the Orks from accomplishing a mishap which would have resulted in the hive ships destruction. They then had to change fate once more to ensure that an Imperium trade ship was targeted instead by the Hive Ship, which got the entire team of Rangers assigned to the task killed. Such was an unacceptable fate and so the cycle continued. Over and over again as they risked more and more lives, destroyed them, to ensure their interests were the priority. The greater ramifications of which uncared for by his fellows, leaving the universe so much more twisted.

It was utter madness. For the sake of one or two lives, they chained themselves to the ever changing winds of the universe. His fellow Eldar wanted to believe they were still in control of it all, that they were exempt from the current reality which surrounded them. But they forgot that they were no longer the dominant ones, they were relics of a long lost past. That his brethren were arrogant enough to believe in the superiority of their lives in such a large and uncaring universe, was an affront to their previous glory. That a single Eldar life was worth all this risk and the distortion of universe was pure arrogance. Tough decisions had to be made, and survival was what mattered, not superiority, not pride, not some false preservation of their past glory, one that they had brought an end to themselves. If one or two Eldar had to die while leaving the rest of them intact, without the Craftworld being affected, then so be it. Their ancestors failed them, and this was the result, a dying race that wanted to believe itself perfect and destined to reclaim what was lost. He knew that was impossible, no matter how much they tried to see into the future, no matter how much they changed and altered, they were trying to fight the whims of fate, fate, itself! There mere existence an affront, for even in death they were running away from a destiny they created themselves, to be consumed by the demon their forbearers brought into existence. Such was not easy for him to conclude, that the universe did not belong to them anymore and it never would lest they continued to be so foolish. He simply wished for the survival of his race, and if that meant forgetting the time of before, that was worth it. They would become something else, something not chained to this crazed desire so sought after by the rest of his race.

He wanted this particularly for those of his Craftword. Hence why he allowed those foul mockeries of Eldar, those barbaric and disgusting cousins he cared not to remember to be slaughtered. A decision not easily accepted by the rest of the council. Because they were simply Eldar, they asked him to instead allow the Dark Eldar safe passage and protection while beside the Craftworld. Despite the disdain all of them held for their vile kin, that they merely held a glimmer of Eldar left within their putrid bodies was enough to warrant their survival as equals. Was this what the Eldar race was reduced to? That they would allow such dark stains upon their collective soul to persist, and still call themselves superior? An entire sector of their race more in common with the foul daemon they so desperately tried to escape was accepted, whether it was begrudged or not, was a reality all Eldar seemed to ignore. Their once great race devolving into the very same practices that doomed it. To preach their perfection while ignoring the rot which seeped from their races heart was arrogant! To preach that they were destined for the stars when the reality was that they were struggling to survive, was arrogant. Ah that dreadful word! Arrogance! The bane of their existence! Even the humans, the Imperium of Man were easily capable of destroying them all if they were not careful. Such a simple and aggressive race they were, but he would not deny as his brethren did, that they populated this universe and not the Eldar. It was theirs.

The appearance of another stirred in Luthwins mind. He opened his eyes to break away from his mediation as he looked to the young Yoriel who bowed before him.

"Farseer, your presence is requested by the rest of the council. They await you in the Councils Sanctum. It seems that our sister Craftworld is nearly done connecting with ours."

Luthwin stood up from his pleasant little garden, the place he always retreated to meditate when he had troubles. It allowed him to tolerate the incessant urges of his fellow council members, particularly those who had chosen the path of war, for they were always the most vocal. He knew that his place as the leader of this Craftworld was challenged, for his soft and weak nature they so quickly labelled him with. Such was only a deflection from the real problem. That they disliked that he presented the truth to them. They often refused to listen to his advice, despite their honorifics and 'pliteness'. They especially refused to accept his demands that his Craftworld stop being lured by the falsehood that was future sight and to actively live, not slave themselves as servants to a determined future that was every changing. Ah… he lost himself far too easily to these bouts of thought. He looked to his young apprentice, still politely bowing before him.

"So, the time for the meeting of councils has come once more. Has Farseer Altoria already arrived to greet us? She is rarely this late…"

Yoriel seemed disturbed but didn't reply at first. What had happened?

"Yoriel, tell me what is wrong."

She looked up at Luthwin, afraid to answer for she knew that he disliked such problems. But if she didn't say, then he would simply derive it from her mind. She wasn't yet capable enough to block him, much to her frustration.

"W-Well… she has not contacted us. In truth, Farseer, we have had no contact whatsoever from our sister Craftworld. It has been… silent."

Luthwins heart nearly stopped, a deep and troubling pain in his chest. Silent? No… that couldn't be. There was something terribly wrong here. He held firmly onto his staff as he pushed himself up. He rushed ahead, past Yorial who followed behind him. He knew that something was ill omened about today. Farseer Altoria never missed an opportunity to talk with him, and it was troubling to hear that nothing had been heard from the other Craftworld at all. This was not the normal way of things. That their sister craftworld continued to connect to his was beyond abnormal. He knew that something was wrong, but what truly frightened him, was that he didn't know it exactly what it was.

Yoriel saw the worry and fear that Luthwin felt. He exuded those emotions without much care to suppress them, unbecoming of a Farseer as far as Yoriel saw it. Luthwin was always so free with his emotions, far beyond even the normal Eldar. But still he was her teacher and she had grown attached to him. That he seemed so distressed on this day of all days though, did not set well with her. Had he seen something?

"Farseer, did you have a vision…?"

Luthwin pushed on down the hallway which led from his chamber into the council room. His mind was focused on other matters currently. That he had no premonition was troubling, but he did not wish to rely on such things alone. He simply knew it that this time calamity was fast approaching, deep in his chest.

"Yoriel, what are the other Council Members doing about this?"

Yorial was annoyed at the ignorance of her first question but answered regardless.

"They are waiting for you, Farseer, and have already attempted to reach out to our sister Craftworld with their minds. It has not worked. And so, the Phoenix Lord decided to send many of our Aspect Warriors to investigate… "

Luthwin pushed open the two massive doors which led into the council room. There he found all the other Council members stood in a circle around the Moon Sphere in its center. The relic which allowed them to share the visions one had with others. The thing which chained them to their search for the future. The Phoenix Lord of his Craftworld's Aspect Warriors, Yuule, was not happy with the perceived lateness of his arrival.

"Farseer Luthwin, It seems you have finally graced us with your presence. Now, I am sure that Yorial has already informed you of our current dilemma?"

Luthwin nodded as he turned to the Moon Sphere. He touched it, pressing psychic energy into it as he attempted to see a vision of their sister Craftworld. Unfortunately nothing came.

"Yes. Has our sister Craftworld already fully joined with ours?"

Yuule turned his head away as he looked to the screens which displayed images of the areas where the wraith bone opened up to accept their sister colony, only to reveal no life on the other side. Where there were usually thousands during this day, not a soul was present. What had happened…?

Yuule tried to contain his emotions as he looked back to Luthwin, determined to understand what was going on. Luthwin for all of his misgivings always gave them accurate visions, but this…

"We had divined that this was the proper day to meet again with our sister craftworld. Yet, this is clearly against all that you had said. I have never questioned you before, Luthwin, but now I ponder if your ability to see the future and connect with the warp has been deteriorated. What…"

None of them expected what happened next as the screens flickered. Static buzzed along them until a new image was displayed. A hooded figure sat atop a large crystalline structure, a white mask over its face. It seemed human, but something seemed to dissuade that conclusion. The corpse of Farseer Altoria held by the figures left hand, her mask broken and shattered to reveal half of her face. She was killed swiftly, a single hole through her chest that seemed merciful at worst. Thousands of Soulstones behind the figure, scattered all along the floor and in piles. The figure was within the innermost sanctum of the Craftworld, where… where all the souls of the dead were held. What was… no… Luthwin recognized the figure. It was the enigma from before. The one whom be had broken a promise with.

"You…"

The hooded figure took a deep breath before tossing up and down a single soulstone in its hands. This was the soul of Farseer Altoria who called out to Luthwin, only for her voice to be violently silenced as the stone was crushed in the figures grip. Luthwin reached out as if to grasp her, but he knew it was pointless. Her soul was gone and devoured. Worse, was that he knew why this had happened...

The figure took a deep breath as they spoke up in a clearly male voice.

"You broke your promise, Farseer Luthwin. I'm disappointed."

Luthwin felt daggers through his heart. He hadn't foretold this. Not even a glimpse. None of the future seers did, and yet here they were. When the Council wished to make a decision that would break his promise to this enigma, he wanted to make sure to know what would come for them. They saw nothing, and so he relented. Still he had felt bad about the decision, and knew something was wrong. But... to see that this was the result.

"We didn't foretell this…. How?"

The figure sighed, agitated.

"I told you, I am separate from the warp. And guess what your precious insights are gifted from? In short, I am an enigma, I technically exist outside your scope. You simply can't tell what I am going to do."

Yuule and the other council members could not believe what they were hearing. Least of all that Luthwin knew of this… this thing.

"You knew about this entity, farseer Luthwin? And you did not tell us?"

Luthwin would not be blamed solely for this.

"No, I did attempt it. But you all ignored my warnings. This is where our future sights fail us…"

Yuule looked to the figure before him. As long as he breathed he would not forgive this sleight against the Eldar. This thing clearly had help. It had to have in order to overcome the might of an entire Craftworld.

"You did not kill all those Eldar. You stink of nothing but Monkeigh! Now where is your master so that I may kill him after I kill you!"

The figure shook his head.

"Such arrogance! You think yourselves so important in the face of an uncaring universe? You are but another animal fighting for its survival, definitely different than all else sure, but with the same goal in the end. You can pretty yourselves with all the justification and pretentious arguments you want, you can scream to the heavens that you once ruled these stars, and you can assure yourselves that you are more, but the universe will not listen and it will not bow. In the end you do the same as the humans you so easily disregard. You so easily point out all the flaws you see in others, but are quick to deny your own. Such flaws nothing but biased constructs placed upon others whom have taken a different path than you. Those which to you, shockingly happen to exist alongside you. You just can't bear the thought of it can you? Being on the same level as all other creatures of this existence, be it an Ork or a human. Can you?"

Yuule would not have this insolence! His warriors already marched into the ship and would no doubt find this figure before long. He would have him dragged before him in chains, within mere fractions of his life. Then he would have the pleasure of killing this inferior being with his own hands! To have such a pompous attitude as to deny the Eldar their rightful destiny was nothing more than nonsense!

"Be quiet! You…"

Yuule found himself paused once more as the figure grabbed a soulstone from the pile beside him. The spirit of an Eldar resting peacefully, safely stowed away from the foul one. The figure had guessed such a pause and took the time to press his point further.

"Look at you all. So desperate to live forever, that you trap yourselves in these little crystals. To drag the restless dead and use them over and over again. You run away from your debts, and from the problems you have caused ignoring an entire swath of your history. Yet despite it all, I would have been content with simply leaving you alone to wither in peace. But here we are. You strictly attempted to hurt those that I have chosen to care about, and for that reason, punishment is in order."

Luthwin would not bare to see another soul devoured before his eyes.

"Please, listen to me. Why punish us? Why do you care so much for those humans?"

The figure crushed the stone at the mere implication of Luthwins words and grabbed another.

"Oh? Because I do. Sure, they are foolish and often self-detrimental, but you know what? I like them regardless. They have the potential to do so much, and the lives they live are so much more interesting than your boring slogs. They can be so much more than this universe allows them, and I will see to that. Besides, I picked the ones I liked, kept them in a specific sector, and had specifically told you before which ones I cared about. But that you rescued that dying Psyker from the reach of space, you have caused me a whole host of problems that cannot be undone. He made it back to the central Imperium and none from there were to know of the sector I have claimed. Before this little screw up of yours, the absolute minimum would need to die. Now, it is inevitable that death will be plentiful and the anvils of war to be struck in the future. I cannot control fate, and I did not intend to do so, but when you directly cause the infinite web in such a way that it causes so many problems for me, I cannot ignore you. And for what? Tell me."

Luthwin didn't want to admit it. The answer would surely not go over well.

"That…"

Yuule spoke up again, confident and rigid. He had just received word his warriors would soon be upon the damned daemon. For that is what this surely was.

"To save the life of an Eldar! My son. If that monkeigh psyker was left to be killed in space, fate determined my son would follow."

The figure shook his head.

"And all of this death brought on for the sake of one, single life? What a waste. But, I cannot blame you for not wanting your son to die. Then again, perhaps if you didn't insist on sending him to war he wouldn't have had the chance to die would he?"

The screen faded out as a massive and powerful quake rocked the entire room. The entire Craftworld knocked out from its determined orbit as its sister colony began to implode, taking all inside with it. The places where the craftworld Te'fa were connected ripped apart, the wraithbone shredded and torn. This allowed the vacuum of space to begin sucking out its innards. Like a wounded animal it bled, thousands upon thousands of Eldar lives lost to the warp, their soulstones crushed by the sheer force of debris and pressure difference. Thankfully for Luthwins craftworld, the wounds sealed off quickly, closing off in time to save as many as possible. But the number that died far outnumbered them still. The lights that once illuminated the council room flickering on and off. Between the shadows the figure appeared in the center over the Moon Sphere, only to be swiftly attacked by Yuule. His son was one of the warriors whom he had sent onto their sister Craftworld, and he was overcome with a potent mix of grief and anguish that drove his actions. He would not admit nor accept that this was in any way part his fault, believing fully to the end the superiority of the Eldar race.

He lasted much longer than any of the others, managing to nearly strike the figure. But the figure did not play by the rules, as the Elder often did not, and blinked away in a blink of the lights. Only to reappear behind Yuule and stab him through his chest and armor with a large sword. The tip shoved deeper and deeper through his flesh and organs, as Yuule tried to force it out of his body. His hands pressed firmly on the blade, blood seeping rapidly out of him. When he realized he could not, he instead tried to grapple the figure behind him, but he did not last long as dark chains from the darkness wrapped around his neck and snapped it, his life fading away in mere moments. Now only Lutwhin and Yoriel left alive in the entire council's sanctum. Luthwin pushed Yoriel behind him, the poor young one scared, more than she had ever been before. She was unable to feel anything from the figure, as if he didn't register at all. She could see him, but her mind felt nothing. She felt nothing but the primal terror that beat in her heart. Luthwin was an incredibly powerful psyker, but even he did not know how he would fare against such a fearsome opponent.

"Please… I beg you …"

The figure leaned forward, breathing heavily as he looked over to Luthwin.

"There. I have rid you of all the obstacles in your way, Farseer. Now you can go forward without this foolish pride pressuring you. Be sure to take this mercy in kind. I had to use far, far too much energy for this. Haven't been this tired in a while really…"

Luthwin didn't understand what the figure was doing. What did he mean…?

"You… you didn't plan this… did you?"

The Figure shook his head.

"Don't be an idiot, Farseer. You still caused me more trouble than you understand. But, I… I could not bring myself to completely destroy you or the rest of this Craftworld. Part of me is sentimental I suppose. The children are the next generation, Luthwin. Be sure to raise them well, and rid yourselves of the pride that plagues your race before it kills you. I made it easy for you to do this, so take my mercy as it is. Just know that if I ever get wind of you even pondering to betray me again, be sure that next time not a single soul will be spared. But then again, the choice is yours, isn't it?"

Luthwin was at his weakest point. In the end he ended up as another piece in the mechanisms of fate. Perhaps this was simply judgement for all the times they had forcibly altered it. What would he do? Fall to his pride, to his races pride and submit to this figures will? Or accept the mercy he was given and survive. His body felt weak, and for once his powers did nothing for him. He fell to his knees, dropping his staff onto the ground.

"I… submit. Never again will the Craftworld of Te'Fa interfere with you again. We will survive on our own away from here."

The figure sighed.

"Good. Live on, Luthwin. Live a life worth living, and forget the past that chains you and your people. But that is only advice, and you can do what you will. As a living being with sentience, the choice is yours for what you decide to do with this reality you have been given. Now, I just have one last question. Where did you send that Psyker?"


Ceres was adrift in space for so long. When he was ejected from the Inquisitors ship he resisted death, and pulled as much air about him as his powers allowed. It managed to buy him time to survive, as a limited shield that surrounded him in the uncaring emptiness that was space. He was beaten and bruised, nearly on the verge of unconsciousness. He was destined to die, surely, and it was at the plotting of that witch. He failed to reveal her, and he knew not what that would cause. He had fallen into a deep sleep and would have died had the small cloaked Eldar ship opened up its doors and took him. From there, he was fitted into a stasis pod, and transported away. He did not see any of this, too weak to open his eyes, and his powers carefully regulated by his saviors to ensure he would not be possessed. He was healed and taken care of, as an Imperial vessel was 'acquired'. They left Ceres alone within, still in stasis, for another Imperial vessel to find him. After which, to cover their intentions, the Eldar attacked the arriving ship as if they sought Ceres. Almost the entirety of the crew slaughtered save for a small select few who 'escaped'. Ceres taken with them as an important asset, for if the Eldar attacked them for his discovery then surely he was important. Then the Eldar manipulated the little cargo ship off course, and away towards the destined place provided to them by their Farseer.

It was here, on the other side of the Imperium that a battlebarge, the Judges Seat, of the Oath Marines Chapter encountered a small battered little ship adrift in space. Being a chapter that cared for the protection of the Emperors people, they quickly recovered it and discovered the remaining crew. They were told a tale of an attack by the Eldar after finding a ship containing a single astropath on board, within a crude Stasis pod. The Oath Marines would not sit idly on this discovery, for their interest in Ceres was piqued. They spent months finding out how to revive him, and the day they did, Ceres found himself in a strange room, alive. Many medical machines grafted to him to allow him to function, as he looked at the 21st Captain of the Oath Marines, who looked to him from his seat.

"We have many questions for you, psyker. Worry not, we will not force you now. But be ready for when you are able to speak."

Ceres almost cried tears of joy, for the Emperor had come through and he was alive and well. Ready to fulfill the task he had thought he failed. He forced himself to speak, despite the pain that jutted through his body.

"The witch… there is something in the frontier. Something…"

The Captain of the Oath Marines stood. It seemed he had found his next assignment.


I apologize that this chapter took a bit longer to come out, but I wanted to iron some things out. But here it is at last, this fic is finally complete.

The Eldar are a very interesting race of 40k, one that has a lot to it. They are so proud of themselves and have the ability to do so much, but at the same time they are still a dying race adamant to remain relevance. I am sure you can gather how I view them from this chapter, and I have to say I am curious whether you agree or not? Either way, hope that it brings some amusing thought.

As a final note, wherever you are, I hope that things are going well for you. Happy holidays, Merry Christmas and all that! Will be a new year soon, and I hope the best for ya! Thanks again for reading this story of mine, a passion project I have had for a good while now. Glad to have shared it.