However it may come. Regardless of temptation or fantasy, of fear and desperate need. With a low call to an endless abyss, to a cell long since occupied — with twelve voices rising above the choir and through listless hordes of those forever lost, indulging in reveries despite the visage of lingering dread.

One last remaining beat of heart and soul, with boundaries broken, love and hatred forged. Through the trifles of the unknown and the expected, with whatever it takes to reach the end.

I will make you proud of me.

I will finish what we started.