She Was His North Star, The Fixed

We Are Tiny Flames, Helikaon, And We Flicker Alone In The Great Dark For No More Than A Heartbeat. When We Strive For Wealth, Glory And Fame, It Is Meaningless. The Nations We Fight For Will One Day Cease To Be. Even The Mountains We Gaze Upon Will Crumble To Dust. To Truly Live We Must Yearn For That Which Does Not Die.

One Day The Enemy Will Cross The Great Green. They Will Bring War And Tragedy To These Eastern Lands. Such Is The Nature Of Vile Men. Yet We Cannot Live In Dread Of Them. We Cannot Hide Behind These High Walls, Our Hearts Trembling. For That Is Not Life. We Must Accept The Needs And The Duties Of Each Day, And Face Them One At A Time.

There Is A Darkness In You. In All Of Us, Probably. Beasts We Keep Chained. Ordinary Men Have To Keep The Chains Strong, For If We Let The Beast Loose Then Society Will Turn Upon Us With Fiery Vengeance. Kings Though...well, Who Is There To Turn Upon Them? So The Chains Are Made Of Straw. It Is The Curse Of Kings, Helikaon, That They Can Become Monsters. And They Invariably Do.

There Is Evil In All Of Us, And It Is The Mark Of A Man How He Defies The Evil Within.

An Enemy Is Like A Man's Most Prized Flower. It Brings Him Joy To See It Buried In The Ground.