Bemmut's Soliloquy, ~Nov. 19

Lothian, such cruel games you play with me. For you who brings light to all men and graces the steps of the blessed, now ask me to consort with the dark, to enter that vile liar not to retard, but to retrieve?

Father, father, who alone saved me and brought me to the light, upon me you have thrust this madness. You see me destined for greatness: I will bring to the Church the blade of prophecy, and be immortalized in script as the Daykeeper himself. No! It cannot be thus. I am a servent of my father and of the Church, but of the Church first! If the Church will not entrust this task to me, who is Bemmut Neferul--who, even, is Heth Neferul--to see fit otherwise? What hubris tempts me, that I could believe I could ever be ink in the same book as the Light, what false torch has caught aflame?

The Sword of Truth, the Sword of Lies: but which is this quest? I know not, the Light falls short in these halls, forever stretching into fog, forever fog. My companions, you walk abreast, you walk backwards, believing you see our path, but only seeing thence we came. And thus do I walk in shadow, between this dark and light, but never knowing the one from the other.