Helis: Every morning I wake up to the same nightmare. The same... reality. Holy Meridian in the hands of profligates, debased. The Spire, towering above the horizon in a glittering spike though the center of my mind. Every daybreak in exile is a mark of failure. But the count of days runs thin. I will see Meridian re-taken, the profligates slaughtered, a True King restored to the mesa throne. In this, I have become an instrument of prophecy.