They watch her from the darkness of smitten trees. They watch as she walked amongst singed bramble and smoking bushes. They watch as she avoids scarlet flames; her form a silhouette in the thick smoke clouds.
She had grown weary now. Her legs ached, sweat lining her form, and exhaustion eating at her mind. She had been traveling for hours now... Mayhaps even a day now. The storm seemed to only grow with time; harsh winds blowing.
She had traversed miles of deadlands. Many miles of the ever expansive forest lie smoten across the earth... The fallen star brought with it death - she knew that. All God-Gifts were... Destructive; flaming great-stones cast unto the earth by the whims of the Gods.
"Urrgh! Aagk!" She coughed and heaved as black ruin filled her lungs - fire's deadly gift unto all Mankind. She grasped her chest with her hand, the other gripping tightly her sole inheritance; a silver wolf engraved unto obsidian metal. A medallion turned amulet. The sole heirloom of her ancestors. She held it for support, for hope, and for protection even as her knuckles went white with strain and metal bite down upon pale skin. Cuts seeped blood unto the sacred heirloom.
Wolves were important to the girl. They are noble, if dangerous, beasts; creatures of blood and of teeth. She respected them for their ability to survive against all odds - kinship is what she felt with them, for it was they who saved her life years ago...
"Haak! Huuurrg! Aaagghh!" She gagged as she stumbled unto a smoking tree. It flaked off into embers and ashes around her flowing cloak of night-black. She did cover her mouth as her eyes hardened: "Sh... Should'a - agk! - should'a... Brought the... The... Huurrghh!" She doubled over as her meal left her belly. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung. Her stomach heaved. She fell unto her knees as smoke ensnared her - the rapture of flame.
"Ugggh! Aaaauuuurrrgg!" The vomit had left her entirely now; heaving marking her form. It painted the cinder-ridden earth orangish-yellow muck. She cringed as she used the tree to assist in standing, "B-Brothers..."
She persisted ever onward betwixt ash and ruin even as her stomach ached and her throat did parch. Her small heart beat swift; lungs drawing breath quicker. She felt fear swelling within her - the touch of doubt. She pondered if this was worth the risk... She quickly pushed those thoughts away as she traversed the dying wilderness.
Night had fallen long ago. The darkness and cold threatened to consume her whole - yet heed them she did not. Her ebony cloak did shield her from winter's first breath. It would not be long before the snows fell, and the lakes did freeze. She did not know if she could return home before winter arrived in force... In fact, she doubted it.
The cold would kill her without proper protection - that she had none of. She knew how to hunt, how to start a fire, and which plants were toxic or possessed restoritive abilities; alchemy is her domain, after all. The betwixting of many concoctions for many effects. None were true magic, of course, but the effects at times were similar enough that she liked to pretend it was. Yet in this desolate land that would matter not if snows did fall...
She hurried through dark smoke as thunder lit up the sky. The storm from eariler raged ever more now; fiercer. The storm had been brewing for days... An omen of the fallen star, perhaps? Maybe... Maybe it was the Gods way of warning the peoples of it's violent landing? Mayhaps it was mere coincidence and nothing more... Mayhaps it forebode the coming of Demons? She chuckled at that thought.
Ruth - named so after the crimson thorn-flowers her late father loved so dearly - was not one for superstition. She did not trust heresay, rumor, or legend. She did know that Demons were mere fantasy! Monsters are not real, regardless of what the village-cleric proclaimed. Even as Ruth choked admist ashen smoke did she manage a giggle.
Demons... Even at her young age she knew of them. Everyone did. Demons are the Deathspawn of the Darkness - Light's lonely Brother. She knew the Gods were real - her mother had pilgrimaged to the Light God's domain once! She knew the Gods were merciful - forgiving for many transgressions and even more sins. Yet... She also knew the Gods would never aid a mere Mortal without proper payment - that which no man or woman could phsyically touch: faith. True faith. The Gods demand not blood or hardship of their creations, but simple faith in them, the ability to humble themselves before their Fathers.
Ruth had prayed... They never answered her despite her faith. She would one day undertake pilgrimage to the Domain of Light as her mother had before her. It was her destiny. All Moonborn will one day seek out the Gods - of their volition or otherwise. Her mother had done so before her, her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's mother before her: "One day", her mother had told her many times, "The Gods will cleanse our curse... Through golden Virtue or purple Sin, they will cleanse our curse." She wanted to believe that. She did... Yet her heart could not.
"Haaak! hurrg!" Ruth smote across dust and ash as she recalled happier times. She recalled when she was but a lass - simple and pure and happy. She remembered playing admist green fields. She remembered a distant castle overlooking her childhood home; a great tree the size of a moutain swaying admist golden sunlight. She missed those days...
Her mind wondered to darker thoughts. Ones of blood, lies, and long-lost hope... She was once not plauged by rejection. She once had a family... A true home. A brother and a sister. Those times are long dead now...
She could see a clearing in the distance. She had to be careful now; chasms splintereing earth. She navigated her path slowly across the gaping abyss; her hand clutching the Medallion of the Demi-Wolf - first of all wolven forms: the Spirit-Enemy of all Protectors. Her bloodline's Idol of Reverance. The Wolf did not segragate, or deride, or mistrust over fell eyes; it saw all equally; prey to feast upon. A dark Spirit, yes, but... But the only one who would answer her prayers - even if only in dreams.
"Bbbbrrrgggghhhh..."
Ruth fell to her knees as the earth was smitten by rumbling. She could hear stones rending past the clearing... A brilliant darkness resided there. She could see a titanic shape illuminated by baleful fires ahead of her. It was looming over the abyss. The ground trumbled as the chasm widened.
"B-B-Brothers!" Ruth quickly rose to her feet as the ground below her did tear and rend. She was swift enough to throw herself unto a more stable shard of jagged earth as the ground she once stood upon plummeted into the darkness below, "I... I... Thank you..." She did give her appreciation to the Gods on high. Maybe they did not bless with her magic, but agility? That she had in great quantity.
Silver eyes nestled upon the empty, stricken, broken path before her. A curved bridge of natrual-stone did make crossing the abyss possible. She briefly prayed before taking a small step upon the bridge.
Her eyes squint, her mouth pursing, her body still. Yet despite it's creaking and groaning it did hold strong. She sighed out of relief. Her features relaxed. She took one small step after another.
The bridge was vast; two hundred or so feet in length. Not a long walk, but an intimdidating sight nonetheless. Ruth noticed how the smoke grew thin here... The air was warm in contrast to the bitter cold. She could smell sulfur and salt. It stung her nose.
"Ahh... Ahhh... Ahhchoo!" Her sneeze echoed into the Abyss a thousand-fold. It did reverberate across charred stone - her bodily reaction audible for dozens of miles below the earthen shores. She did not know it, yet within that darkness something dwelt patiently; something listened; something was... Now interested in her.
A vast pupilless eye the size of a house opened inside the abyss. For but a moment all around Ruth became lit in scaret and yellow. Yet as quickly as it appeared it did cease.
"Wha!?" Silver eyes peered into flame and darkness around her. She looked into the abyss and saw... Nothing. Nothing but eternal night. And the night saw her.
A distant shape inside the darkness coilied. She heard groaning not unlike that of stone, yet... It was gutteral. Ruth felt instinct-born fear within her.
She hurried across her bridge swiftly. Her long legs did carry her far; her heart racing as terror of the red light overcame her. She had heard of it... Things like it. There were rumors about... Something that... Haunts the forest's darkest recess. A legend about the Lurker-In-The-Darkness. It was said to steal away those who would stray too far from the safety of the village. She never believed in it, yet... She wasn't stupid enough to push her luck either.
Ruth was elevated when boot-clad feet perched upon... Glass? Her brows furrowed as she grew confused. Glass? The otherside of the chasm should be more forest! Or perhaps a smoldering field, but...The ground here was glass! Black glass... She swallowed as she raised her eyes to rest upon the darkness-shape.
The titan-form did lay motionless admist a vast crater of flame, glass, and sundered earth. It laid smoten upon the gaping wound of the world. It was as black as night, gargantuan, and longer than a caslte is tall... As big as one, too. Ruth thought it a stone of some kind. A God-Gift. She knew the Gods would at times call forth falling stars to bless the peoples. Other times to curse them for their sins. She knew not which this God-Gift would be.
But she did see it's shape. Jagged spikes did arise from it's top like the teeth of a great Demon. It laid with a long and thin protrusion emerging from the front of it. The protrusion did coil around the stone; something resembling barbs emerging from the triangle-tip of the unusual feature.
A similar, though thicker yet shorter, protrusion emerged from the back. It laid straight out... A hundred or so feet in length. It was thicker than any bear or horse! Bigger than her cabin, even. And the tips of this protrusion was thin. Two rectangular... Beaks?
Ruth now stood before the back end of the... Thing. It had a beak, she noted, and... A horn? No... Two horns! One was severed at it's base, the other curving and thicker than any sword. And sharper.
But... This was all wrong! God-Gifts don't have beaks! Or horns... Or teeth. She saw the teeth now. Massive spikes that were white as bone and longer than she was tall. She saw a faint trickle of red orbs flowing from it's slightly opened maw. The glowing dots did fade quickly unto the smoke around them.
Horns, fangs, and a beak? What... What was this thing? The other protrusion... A tail! She realized the other was a tail! And if it had a tail, and a beaked mouth, then...
"What are you...?" Did she whisper admist the debris of crimson ruination, "A... Demon?" It did possess a passing resemblance unto those begotten creatures. She didn't believe in them, of course, yet she struggled to explain away the sight before her. But Demons possessed white spikes! And bled shadows... This one had neither.
The things night-black hide was, in fact, not stone she realized. She inspected it closely... Ridges were within them. Gashes... Cuts admist scales. Ruth did spy amongst this creature's form the sight of many, many, many scars; wounds of a legendary battle. This thing had clearly fought someone... Or something.
"And it fell from the skies..." It came from beyond the Heavens. What... What was it? Demons were not of the Heavens! But of the dark recess of nightmare-ridden craigs... This thing had been cast from Heaven, she surmised, but... By whom? Why?
Dainty fingers did coil about a great spike - jagged and curved. It did protrude from the creature's serpent-neck. Warm... It was warm to the touch. Burning, even. Her hand did swiftly retreat; bidden warning by the great heat.
"Ah!" Her hand did shake admist cooling ashes as her skin sizzled. The burn, God-given, was not horribly injured. Nary a blister admist pinkish-red flesh. The wound smoked in the open air, "Gods...!" Her teeth clenched as she wrapped her burned hand admist night-black cloth: "Hsssss! Uhhh..." She did hiss and sigh as flesh stung against poking fabric. Blood painted ebony scarlet.
Silver eyes did nestle upon the titan-black. It remained still, unbreathing, unliving. As her hand did writhe, her mind pushed aside pain to ponder. Her mother had oft' said that life rewarded the faithful in the most obscure of ways... Far as she could tell, no other had managed to find the God-Gift yet. Pale lips did smile.
"Maybe... Maybe t'was meant for me?" Mayhaps the Gods had sent this creature for her? It was injured, she spied, and seeping a sparkling energy... Blood of a sort? She could spy many a wound upon the creature. A portion of it's great tail was missing a large section of scale and muscle; exposed flesh for all the world to gander. She frowned deeply.
If it yet lived it did so in suffering. Her heart ached at that. No creature deserved to suffer... Demon or no. If this God-Gift was truly meant for her, then... She must care for it. She knew in her heart it was not dead - for why would unto her the Gods send a barren gift? She was a healer, after all!
She licked her lips as she rested her satchel upon jagged earth. Her hands undid it's opening as she fished about for plants, bottles, and small tools for cutting, crushing, powdering, and flesh-knitting. She knew this montly offering was nothing in the face of a creature as vast as a castle, but... T'was a starting point, no?
Unto her work she set about. Before it's beak she kneeled as she peered unto it's eyeless face. There bore into the thing - where an eye should be - a hole seeping crimson particles. She did levey unto it's snout a soothing balm; wounds sizzling in response to the cold liquid. She watched as the air around the injury did bend; heat warping it's invisible form.
Slowly, carefully, she rest her hand upon it. The balm cooled the burning scales into a pleasing warmth. She smiled unto it, her heart aching for life-unbidden, her face betwixt the amber-emotion: "I... I will save you, that I promise... I vow it upon the Wolf's howl, the Moon's cold grace, and the Gods endless mercies; I will save you!"
A ruby-red eye opened. Malice seethed unto her in waves of black. She fell unto earth as the snout huffed.
Silver eyes stared unto ruby ones. Silence settled upon them. Fear gripped her heart.
The Gods watched with eager anticipation...
Within the lifeless slumber did Dread Wings unfurl; that most ancient of uttermost malices seething unto the All-Life. He hated them. He hated the Sinners, the Heretics, and the Blasphemers. He hated all who would deny him his Divine birthright - the whole of the world! And beyond it... He hated his traitor-brothers, the Drakes. He hated his slave-sisters, the Jills. He hated his Father, Aka-Tusk. He hated all that lived and died, and those who are both, or neither. He... Hates them all - chief of them all - Mankind: those who brought about his defeat.
Humans are innately disorderly creatures. Oafish, fragile, Mortal, and worst of all: liars. They always sought more, more, and more! They knew not contentness! They knew not wisdom! They knew not true knowledge! Even as he gave unto them fire, and technology, and civilization they still wanted more! They only knew of war... Death... Suffering.
'Nahkriin,' Did mighty Alduin dare to recall, 'Krosis, joor.' Admist great peaks and frosty wastelands did Nahkriin - Chief of the Dragon Priests - find the Tyrant Wyrm. Betwixt darkness and ice, did the Black Dread find his Chosen Prophet.
Ancient Atmora - land of ice, vampyr-serpents, and winged false-Dragon. The imitators of true Dov bore six limbs, lion-like bodies, and to no Words of Power did they own. Animals playing at Godhood. Alduin despised the liar and the fogerer. Those who did make love unto falsehoods were condemned unto false-death eternal; the price of sullying the beauty of truth.
Of that Nahkriin did adore. The Mortal was the first of the Wizened Ones. It was he who chose to dwell amongst the Dragons - and it was he who came upon epiphany: God is the Black Dragon. The Black Dragon is God. The only God he would accept, that is.
It was Nahkriin who inspired the Tyrant Wyrm to darken Heaven under Drake-Storms and Jill-Thunder. It was Nahkriin who inspired the World Eater to embrace life - not to reject it, as was Alduin's Entropic nature. It was Nahkriin who taught the Black Dread the Power of Men - determination.
Alduin was wise, though short of patience. He was alone... He had always been alone. None who called him companion, or teacher, or ally. Yes, the Dragons did serve him; of fear, not of respect. Back then, however, the distinction between the two mattered little to the Tyrant Wyrm.
He did not care for friendship, or love, or any such montly attachments. Back then he was... Content. Pure, in a way. He stood as Lord of Atmora; King of Dragons, Master of Beasts. He remained atop his great moutain-perch - surveying all that would transpire amongst snow and rock and Heaven.
Yet Nahkriin was persistent despite the Tyrant Wyrm's attempts to betwixt his path away from the Dragons. He did stay despite the many dangers. The cold ravaged his body, hunger fragmenting his mind, Mortality eating away at his finite life. Alduin felt nought but pity then - the very first time the emotion would curse him.
"Arise ye of Lorkhan's guise; of what does it thee seek from Zu'u Alduin?" Did the very winds echo as Divine thunder-wrath shook the very world, "I have nought too bequeath unto thee; no rewards for ye's foolish faith." The Black Wyrm did feel an aching pain in his primeval heart. He crushed the phantom - heart seething unto black oceans. Men - all of them - are inherintly wicked.
The Eldest Elder pushed away the ancient memory. He did not wish to hear Nahkriin's answer. Not now... Not so soon after the fell Man-Drake did slay the Chosen Prohpet. Alduin had felt it within his Divine Essence. Nahkriin's true and final death...
'Korsis,' Thought the Ancient Entropy, 'Such... Babarism.' How could the Mortals possibly rule themselves when they were but children? Nahkriin showed to Alduin the answer: they couldn't. They were creatures of neverending desire; rape, murder, theft, and Sin is their only true Gods. They are innately childish... He was too be unto them as a father to his babe. He cherished their smiles, their venerations, their... Their love for him.
The Tyrant Wyrm did birth all civilization - Man, Elf, and Beast. It was he who taught them speech, the art of building, and how to live in wisdom. He did teach unto them the Laws of the World - most pure and ancient, as he was taught by nature itself.
He knew Nahkriin spoke truth when he said Men will worship only Death... T'was all they could understand. So he gave it to them. Death unimaginable. This was before the first cities, before the First Word, before Man hid his nakedness. Alduin knew they would not listen otherwise.
Tamriel was born of this Black Death - islands rizen from the sea, contients sundered, and the oceans running red with the blood of trilions. From Heaven rained down thousands of falling stars - Tyrant Wyrm's gift unto primeval Man.
Upon the smoten earth did lie the Punished; those who survived the cleansing. It was a lesson. To teach them that Death is a wicked thing - vile and not worthy of worship. They did heed this warning.
The Punished vowed to forever obey the Black Dread's commandments: "Thou shalt only bequeath death for mercy, or for defense. Never for death's sake." Was the First Law unto Man from the Twilight God.
"Thou shalt never harbor the Traitor-Thought: regret. Thou will live in bliss under thy rule forevermore." Was the Second Law unto Man from the Twilight God.
"Thou shalt never raise blade or spell or claw against Zu'u Alduin! Or thy's kindred. Thou shalt realize death is meager unto thy's wroth should thee do so." Was the Third Law unto Man from the Twilight God.
"Thee faithful shalt never know death, or disease, or hunger, or weariness again. Thee of faith shalt serve in undying flesh for all time." Was the final decree of the Tyrant Wyrm unto his fearful flock. They harkened to the Laws of Alduin and would, in possession of them, play at becoming Kings and Queens and Wizards and Champions.
Alduin ruled for ages beyond reckoning - the First to Dominate another on primeval Nirn. He would not demand tribute, or trials, or tribulations: faith, and of course, undying loyalty was all he needed.
Fire would purge the Sinners and the Heretics, or so he concluded in most ancient of times. The Black Wyrm did ruminate on that. The origin of his reign.
Yet it did not stay that way. Man grew emboldened by their many blessings and successes... They forgot his warnings. So they were punished tenfold! Slavery, blood-tribute, and pain was all they earned after their First Betrayal. They needed to suffer for their lies. It was his mercy that spared them from total annihilation. A foolish mercy...
Further back did Alduin remember evermore. He knew that which all others did not. Mayhaps there was time when all were as knowledgeable as the Twilight God... If so, that age has long past.
Alduin remembers the first of trees as they grew to impale Heaven.
Alduin remembers the first rainfall that did birth oceans unto earth.
Alduin remembers the great cosmic escape - Lorkhan's deceit upon the Gods - for which the Dread Wyrm played no role save that of watcher.
Alduin remembers the first cities; of stone and metal they were not. Clay, mud, and bricks were used to construct them.
Alduin remembers the First Mortals starving, dying, diseasing this world.
Back even further still does Alduin know - his mind incapable of ever forgetting. He did recall that which only one other knew - the Death of a God. True death. Not what Lorkhan did suffer from the Aka, but of what been done unto the Nameless One. He, and he alone, does remember the Nameless Scream as it darkened Heaven and earth during the Celestial Murder.
That was the First Sin. Committed by those who would rule over Heaven.
T'was the Gods who birthed Sin, not Man. And for that Alduin hated them, too.
Before even this does the Tyrant Wyrm know. He recalled when the Trickster did whisper into the ears of the Gods of the many Heavens and the many Hells - before Heaven and Hell were yet to be born. He remmbered well when the Gods were unto animals, not unlike the First Mortals, though far grander in scope.
Even further back does the God-Dragon remember. Before the Gods were manifested, before fate took shape, before the birth of Time: Entropy Incarnate.
That is the true nature of the Beast of Aldugga - Black Wings of Tyranny. He is not a mere Dragon; betwixt by endless ambition. He is not a mere Mortal; betwixt by childish stupidity. He is not a mere God; betwixt by the absence of free will.
He is all of these and none.
He is Hero.
Not a hero in the sense of preservation; but of freedom. He is the Prisoner, the Hero, and the Foe all at once. He is condemned by fate, free of fate, and enemy of fate.
He is Entropy.
The God-Dragon of Entropy. The Mortals oafishly mistook that to mean Destruction - their eyes too naive and young to understand the difference.
All Gods are living ideas. Concepts given self-identity; slaves of fate. This is the truth of the world... Gods are slaves.
But not the Twilight God. He IS Entropy personified! The physical shape of the purest form of Nothingness that could still identify as something - the enemy of the All-Knower: Fate's God, Entropy's rival.
He was the embodiment of total and complete death. Erasure of matter, magic, thought, and soul: True Nothingness. He is the return to the Void from which all - even Alduin - first arose.
Yet... He rose above this innate aspect of himself; defying his sole reason to exist. It was a struggle... He defys every instinct with each waking moment. In truth, he abandoned his Divine Soul; World Eater no longer, but the Tyrant Wyrm.
Dare thee too imagine such? To be born, molded, shaped down to every atom to be destructive beyond comprehension... Yet too defy that should be impossible. Yet he did.
"Which is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"
Entropy chose to rule, not to destroy.
Alduin chose to rule. He defyed his fate, his sole purpose - the very reason he even exists. In truth, the Dragon is a caged God by his own free will.
Of what does this imply? Can the Gods truly be free of fate? Or is this merely postponing the inevitable? Mayhaps...
Mayhaps the God-Dragon is no true God at all? But something older... Stronger... Unknowable.
'Diin...' Thought Alduin as he did feel unto his snout a cold presence. It... Felt... Familiar. Freezing to the touch. Unto Atmora his mind travelled; unto the cold this sensation reminded him of.
The feeling remained against his furnace-heart. He would push further into it, if not his body broken, yet he contented himself with it's meager graze.
It rested below his nostrils. He could feel it shifting slowly, moving down to his jaws. He pondered on it's source. Snow? Nay... Such a thing melted upon his blackened hide. Perhaps... Some form of Sorcery? Nary a hint of magic was pesent though. But... he could taste...
'Laas.' Life... The energies of the All-Life. The power of sustaining flesh: Soul. He hungered. Souls... Souls are his meat - his feast. He can, of course, feed upon all things - yet Souls are brimming with untapped Divinity. Within all Mortals resides a Spark of Godhood - the source of all creativity... And destruction. His favored meal.
It lived. The source of the frost-kiss did bear life. His first instinct was too crush it! Burn it... Devour it. The Mortals are unworthy of life! He... He... He gave them everything! A God, an Empire, endless wealth and blessings... Immortality! Yet they betrayed him regardless. He... He loved them, as much as Entropy can love a Mortal.
'Nahkriin... Nahkriin Joor!' He seethed yet again. He hated the touch of a Mortal, yet... The cold was pleasing. It brought back memories of times far simpler when his furnace-heart did not yet burn so bright. He found his anger waning... Mortals are vile, yes, but... Surely the touch of one so cold is no act of wickedness? Mayhaps... Mayhaps this Mortal would know his place? Yes... Mayhaps he was one of the few who held to faith of the Old Ways.
For the first time since ancient Nahkriin did Alduin ponder something. A fleeting thought, yes, but... It gnawed upon him - birthed by the Mortal's gentle touch. Maybe he was wrong? Mistaken about the nature of Men...? No. Impossible... He crushed that fool-ridden thought and buried it deep within malice.
If... If they would not love him... Then they must die.
All of them must be consumed! Destroyed! Insolent wretches! Traitors all! They will punished forevermore!
He is World Eater! Devourer of All-Life! King of Nirn, the Heavens, and the rightful Master of All-Things!
HE IS ALDUIN, WORLD EATER!
It was time he stopped defying his fate and embrace that title once more.
"I... I will save you, that I promise... I vow it upon the Wolf's howl, the Moon's cold grace, and the Gods endless mercies; I will save you!" A ruby-eye of unending hate opened amongst ashen darkness. Snow-slit peered unto a shape clad in night-black and adorned in red cloth. Confusion wracked the Black Wyrm's mind at the soft voice of a Mortal girl.
Silver eyes widened. He... Was, in fact, a she. And she gasped as she fell. Silence fell among the smoten earth.
The Gods watched with eager anticipation...
Aria of Ashes here. I have little to say this time so I'll get to the point.
Misfit Fox - Thank you for compliment! I've never had a story of mine called 'fire' before. Does this make me hip with the kids now? Jokes aside, thank you.
Greed720 - Great to hear! I do have many ideas of where I want the story to go. Obviously I can't reveal them, but I do have them! You'll just have to trust me on that.
I will say going forward I will not address comments publicly - but through PMs. Unless, of course, I feel the comment in some way should be addressed publicly - likely because they pretain to an element of the story and/or ideas I'd like to discuss openly.
Other than that... Goodbye! And have a great day/night.
For now: I will return to the void and fade into ashes.