[Kiha]

 
The second Emperor of Vdalion speaks out, fervor of his youth once more in his visage and words. A resurging faith and conviction echoing in his speech within the capital of Vdalion, Grimhjall. The recollection of what was said spreads like wild-fire across Meranthe, the notion of a true legacy on the precipice of reclamation igniting a burning fire in those it resonates with.
 
The implications are unprecedented.
 

"For too long, we have lost our glory in pursuit of a noble debt. But the ends do not justify the means. In honor of Signe. In honor of Grimnir. In honor of Ymir's sacrifice, I cannot wallow in my loss and pain as an excuse to turn cheek towards what is anathema. My mind is clear, free of weight and starkly am I exposed to the sobering loss I have let numb my heart. We inheritors of the Great-Father's ichor cannot obtain our rightful purity when occultism and necromancy dwell in our body and soul.

 

No Emperor's Spine ever worked towards. No means to truly regulate as was foolishly spouted.

To ever consider, to ever trust such a fel thing in any facet, a failure of mine to be never forgotten.

 

I have made peace with the truth of my mistakes. I am no god, never will I be infallible. Yet I have the means and power to correct my lapse. So hear me, sons and dotirs.

I denounce witchcraft. I denounce necromancy. Come before me if you must and lay your blades to me, or bear your shields with for me. We have fallen short of true greatness with the propagation of a faux truth. But what is true is not lost. So hear me, Meranthe.

 

This is our truth;

 

The one who carried Ymir's True Gift is known as the Great, Grimnir in our legends. The one who began the golden age shall always be remembered and exalted in legends to come. His birth came from an ichor imbued with the divine essence of our beloved savior, one which had never been before seen. With time it was forgotten and perhaps, it may had been forever lost - alongside the Empire by his hands forged.

 

But no more. Hope still remains for the greatness of yore to be reached. For the heralding of Ymir to be exalted once more across the lands, we must purify ourselves, body and soul, before the sight of our Great-Father. Upon a solstice, we must bathe again in the ichor of the gods that were born of his spirit, and it would not please our beloved martyr-god to take such by force. Only then, might we descendants of the Great-Father regain his gift in all its splendor."

 
The halls of Folhammar have been reported closed to all such things. With a singular choice given to those submerged in dark practices:

Let go of it. Come before Surtyr Folhammar and stand in Ymir's aetheric light and put down darkened tomes and purify yourselves.
One bound by Hel already freed, soon the rest to come, willingly or otherwise.