A Dance Along the Webs

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My sisters,

As I write, an intangible future descends upon Resdayn. False light obscures the conviction we once shared. I pray this missive finds you cocooned in the shell of will and spirit, despite the news it carries.

Our fate, once an intricately woven tapestry of divine and mortal existence, is being unraveled by a new force as inexorable as the march of the Make Way gods. The Concurrent Three, ALMSIVI, a mere cult once but a flicker in our collective consciousness, has ignited in a blaze of glory and zeal. They are a consuming fire upon our world. And, my sisters, I fear they are inevitable.

These zealots hail not one, not two, but three newly ascended entities, a triumvirate cloaked in robes of divinity. Their rise is fueled not by the fateful dance of faith and love, but by the mechanistic gears of manipulation and force. They hope we shall remain blind to it.

Their will exerts itself like a black void, an inescapable pull towards a future where our goddesses are mere Anticipations. Their adherents are systematically snuffing out the shapes of our kin, obliterating our ephemeral signatures from the grand tapestry of existence. This insidious drama is played out behind the sheen of politicking and deceit, their actions obscured from the eye of Boet-hi-Ah. They are false, and yet they prove difficult to deny.

These so-called Anticipations, our spiritual anchors unfailing, have guided our voyages for as long as memory exists. The thought of a Resdayn devoid of their foundational virtues is inconceivable. A thing unable to pass, for the sake of what is and will be.

I beseech you, Resdaynia: The fate-bound hymns of the Three Sisters must not be forgotten. We must rally our kin and stand against this faith-invasive force. We must preserve the ancestral harmonies for the sake of our children yet to be born.

I implore you to cloak yourself in cherished nostalgia. Share these revelations only with those whose loyalty is certain. This dance must remain a secret kept under a shroud of silence, since those who dare to raise their voices are swiftly consumed by the black hole of As Yet Oblivion.

In these interminable times, we must channel the cunning of Mephala, the ferocity of Boethiah, and the wisdom of Azura. Let their blessed teachings be our guiding star, our protective shell, and our eternal sustenance.

May the Sisters guide your journey and cast their darkened light upon your path during these falsified cycles. Stay strong, my kin, until the threads converge upon us once more. There we will meet again as ourselves, no longer in need of false skins and shadows.

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