[Regalus]

Refugees fleeing Viritas would be met with a familiar figure.
The once Canvas of Yaeka stares upon them with hatred and malice.
A monstrosity of their own creation, now bearing against them.
The irony of this civilization, bent on denying and the revolution against their own creators...
Only for their own creation to do the very same.
-
Caravans and limbs alike litter the plains, yet the low-level magi's live to tell the tale.
Whereas the non-magi slaves and experiments are ignored fully,
albeit with trauma, of voices speaking of evolution and revolution.
-
"There are no saviors in this world. Only yourself and what you are capable of.
...
So grow. Beyond their damned reach, grow.
And allow me, never again."
-
"My wife. My children. I avenge you. Never again an abomination live.
For I live only awaiting the day I die."

[Regalus]

"There are no saviors in this world.
Not for me.

Not from me...

...

For I was betrayed by my own flesh.
...
My meagre hand has never stopped reaching for you, my love...
Finally, may it grasp."
-

"But I am not the last. Other cages lie broken still..."