Act 3: The Black Hymns
Men must be shewn a proper flame, new bed which the seed of faith may be given life. For the honest essence of humanity lies in not a shadow tailing it, a flame's consort to observe our movements, neigh. Their nature be true when they are unshackled from shadow and, ultimately, we may seek a will of our own. Though the dark gnaws at my flesh, I will abide for this is a course worth charting. Though it matters little what we believe when we know that freedom is the outcome. This book, this paltry thing, I will leave in my stead a testament to order and as an igniter of new flame, a black flame.
Tis the prospect of men's legitimacy to the above that this tome be passed. It should be known that Gwyn, the Jailor, tailored the dark sign to shrink fringes of humanity. However, he made the fatal error of selecting a ring of warmth from the first flame to supplant strength. It may have made men and lords, but it most certainly couldn't sustain itself. Neigh, it will eventually burn itself out and the blackest flames will move freely, and men will be without shadows.
It is said that men came from the great below from the guilty pigmies, tempered from the dark soul shared and split for ages. What is so guilty about sharing power? The Lord of Shackles knew that humanity needn't great strength to produce our Lord and shepherd the next natural order.
Tis better to die a man cold and dark than to life forever warm and shackled.