Sarcadia Cleansed

The Shadow War has ended.

Sarcadia has been cleansed from the poison of the Tenebites.

I am victorious…

… Or so they say.

They have counted the number of dead in the millions.





It matters not how many were killed.

It only matters who survived.

The celebrations throughout Sarcadia have been going for days.

They sing my praise.

They offer me sacrifices.

The All-Father has saved Sarcadia once again.

But I am not so easily content as those oblivious worshippers.

There is only one name not added to the tally of fatalities.

One name that only mattered.

One death I wished to deliver.


The Great Whore of Sarcadia.

They say I am victorious?

I am not.

The war is meaningless to me.

The only triumph worth celebrating is the death of the Dark Mother.

How dare she mock me with her spawn?

Those disgusting abominations she calls children.

The Elysiites.

I should have killed her from the beginning.

I thought she would suffer in Tenebris.

I thought a horrific monster or creature would claim her as a prize.

How I wanted her to suffer for what she did to my precious son.

Yet she survived.

Taken under the wing by the Chatterer of Secrets.

Dominated the Tenebites and bent the Realm of Shadows to her will.

Waged a war on Sarcadia and devastated millions of lives.

All to draw me out from Caelum.

All to confront me and seek her revenge.

What she does not know is that she already achieved it.

The thought the Dark Mother remains upon the apex of Tenebris hierarchy disgusts me.

The mere idea of Elysia’s existence tears at my mind.

Whenever I utter that vixen’s name my heart pounds heatedly.

Is this vengeance not enough for her?

I would venture to the Realm of Shadows just to kill her.

To annihilate every single one of her damned children.

To tear apart her world just as she once done to me.

Yes, I know I would be corrupted, but I would allow Tenebris to consume me if only to see that whore dead.

Though Sarcadia wishes not for another war, I eagerly wait for a second invasion.

When she does, I shall seek her out immediately and end her unnatural existence.

I could not care about how many others are to suffer as a result.

Sarcadia, Caelum, even Tenebris shall be better once I have disposed of her.

Then, and only there, shall I be victorious.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: Sarcadia Cleansed”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

Battle of Former Lovers

This war has been waged for thousands of days.

I have battled throughout Sarcadia alongside my father and my sisters.

I have fought Succubi and Efreet in Un’Kabaal and combatted Lycans and Verminkin in Alibrium.

I have slayed Hobgoblins and Orcs in Tarana and dispatched Ogres, Arachnoids and Harpies in Dektundra.

The number of dead on both sides has mounted heavily.

The number of wounded greater.

Yet it was today, the final battle of this long weary war, that yielded the goriest result.

So much blood tainted the marshy grounds of Stagnum.

But the crimson spilled was not from the thousands slaughtered on the battlefield.

It came from the deep, unforgiving wounds inflicted between the All-Father and the Dark Mother.

I have not seen my father so irate before.

One gaze upon Tenebris’ new master triggered my father’s wrath.

He had not seen Elysia since he damned her to the Realm of Shadows.

He had only heard what she had become.

I stood by him when his eyes fell upon his former lover.

No longer was she the beautiful maiden who had captivated the heart of a Supreme Lord.

Though her upper body retained most of her human features, her lower body was that of a monster.

Her putrid ovipositor produced the ravenous fiends she called “her children”.

She scurried around the battlefield on a hundred centipede-like legs.

A vile and gaping maw sat below her torso.

It gnashed its hideous rows of teeth and lashed out with its many long, dark tongues.

Snatching and devouring both the living and the dead.

I am re-assured that Father was paralysed, even if just briefly, in fear.

To think that him laying with this woman resulted in her rebirth as Tenebris’ sinister Goddess.

When the shock had faded, my father and Elysia engaged in combat.

There was no honour.

There was no respect.

There was only hatred.

They clashed bitterly throughout the battlefield.

Elysia showed no regard for the safety of her warriors.

The same can be said of my father.

The Dark Mother cared not about the battles she lost.

The All-Father cared not about the victories he won.

There was only the death of their enemy.

Anyone who attempted to intervene were showed little mercy.

One Caelestial was impaled by the Supreme Lord’s spear for interfering in the duel.

It was as if my father was the only one he thought worthy of killing Elysia.

So much blood.

So much pain.

Each vengeful strike delivered was riddled with spite.

Both had their reasons.

For my father, it was the murder of his first born.

For Elysia, it was the betrayal of the Supreme Lord.

Neither would surrender.

Nor did one slay the other.

The Dark Mother was forced to retreat before her portal to Tenebris collapsed.

The All-Father was forced to allow his former lover to escape.

The fury in his eyes could have burned through the thickest steel.

Had it been anyone but Abagael who stopped my father, I swear he would have torn of their head with his bare hands.

The battle had been won.

The war had been won.

But I know my father was not satisfied with the victory.

He will never be satisfied until he fashions the skull of the Dark Mother into a trophy.

— “The Octavian Monologues: Battle of Former Lovers”, Bruce Boward, 218 AO

All Hail the Dark Mother

The Realm of Shadows has a new Master.

All shall kneel and serve the Dark Mother for all eternity.

Throughout the years, I have assimilated all Tenebites into my masterdom.

Those who do not yield are torn apart by my murderous children.

Oh, my precious darlings, you have all made your mother so proud.

And I must not forget my loyal allies and supporters.

Emriana, Tyrant of the Succubi.

You and your sisters were the first to accept me into your family.

Qylaryn tarnished the reputation of your kindred and turned them into harlots.

Under your leadership, the Succubi are now feared throughout Tenebris once again.

Va’Raal, Tyrant of the Afreet.

You and your brothers had always respected my Succubi kinfolk.

It is no secret you harboured disgust against Emriana’s predecessor.

Your devotion to my cause was swift and appreciative.

Krage, Tyrant of the Arachnoids.

Born with both genders entwined you, like I, survived and became powerful.

A thing once thought to be useless now stands by my side as a feared warrior.

One of the first not just to be my ally, but the first to accept and worship me as your new deity.

Xillin Dinjar, Tyrant of the Queyzen.

Your kind have long been disrespected by those who considered themselves to be superior.

Yet here you stand before me with your supremacy unquestioned.

No more shall you be regarded as inferior.

Niroxxi Bloodfeather, Tyrant of the Harpies.

Another who was wise enough to immediately pledge their undying allegiance to me.

Many thought it was out of fear but we both know this to be false.

You support me for you wish to see a woman of formidable power rule this realm.

And of course, I could and would never forget the support of you – Belzabardos.

You have transformed me from a weak Sarcadian woman into an unstoppable, demonic Queen.

To all of you I say, thank you.

Tenebris is mine and mine to do whatever I please.

None shall be foolish enough to oppose me.

Should they be so naïve, they shall suffer the same fate as Archmordeus.

This time perhaps I will take more than just their eyes.

Perhaps an arm?

A leg?

All their limbs?

Or shall I rip out their heart and remove their head?

It matters not, for I shall do to all Tenebites whatever I please.

No one can stop me now.

No Daemon. No Orc.

No Lycan. No Hobgoblin.

No Ogre. No Drakonkin.

No Tengu. No Verminkin.

No Supreme Lord of Sarcadia.

No Supreme Lord of Caelum.

No All-Father.

Tenebris is mine and soon Sarcadia shall be as well.

Death and misery shall spread like a wildfire spreads through forests.

The Sarcadians shall be petrified and paralysed in fear as they gaze before Tenebris’ new master.

I will take Sarcadia from you, Atriarch, just as easily as I took our son away from you.

You will have to come and save your people.

Their suffering will be your fault and yours alone.

You ignored my pleas.

Will you ignore theirs?

In due time, I shall ravage Sarcadia, but for now I shall rest.

My army of Tenebites shall grow stronger every day.

And my children will continue to make their Dark Mother proud.

I cannot wait for you to meet them.

I know they are dying to meet you.

— “The Elysia Monologues: All Hail the Dark Mother”, Bruce Boward, 216 AO

Goodbye 2019. Hello 2020!

2019 – A “Bloody” Good Year!

Hello everyone! 2019 is coming to an end and boy, it has been a very busy year!

You might’ve noticed I’ve gone a bit quiet on providing updates since I started publishing the Eternal Monologues. The past few months have been busy for me for several reasons. Don’t worry – it’s nothing bad!

The main reason why I haven’t provided as many updates is due my heavy focus on writing. With 2019 wrapping up and 2020 just around the corner, I figured now’s a perfect time to provide you all with a big update on how everything has been traveling!

Of course, before I can begin talking about all things book related, let’s recap on my feline supervisor who’s been cracking the whip and keeping me in line.

Zoya the Destroyer

This year saw Zoya join my household which she now rules with an iron paw. Truthfully, it’s been great having her around as a writing companion, especially now she no longer finds the keyboard comfortable to sleep on!

Like all cats Zoya has developed some very interesting and random habits. For example, she’s developed a routine of intercepting anyone going up stairs then collapsing in front of them. Why does she do this? For belly scratches. I know what you’re thinking, “Don’t do it! It’s a trap!”. Yes, this normally is a classic cat trap yet Zoya seems to love it and so far, I haven’t been attacked.

No doubt 2020 will see Zoya continue to make sure I’m working heavily on all things Cardinal.

And no doubt I’ll be posting more photos of her along with my updates.

Now that the feline talk is out of the way, let’s recap 2019 and lay out my expectations of 2020!

The first draft of Encyclopedia Sarcadia completed!

I hit one of many milestones this year with the completion of Encyclopedia Sarcadia. It was a huge effort and exhausting to get through, but I’m very proud with the result. The encyclopedia has helped establish the world the Cardinal series will be set on. It has also opened an unlimited amount of possibilities for future writing projects.

Goal for 2020 – Publish Encyclopedia Sarcadia

Currently the encyclopedia is going through a lengthy edit which will no doubt turn into another lengthy re-edit. I’m not sure when I’ll begin publishing material from the book on the website, but I want to begin in mid-2020. Once the first edit has been completed I’ll be able to assemble a clear timeline so stay tuned!

The first draft of the Sarcadian Atlas completed!

2019 saw the completion of the maps of all the major continents of Sarcadia. Some were simple to draw while others took a lot longer than I anticipated. Regardless I’m happy with the result of what I’m now referring to as the “Sarcadian Atlas”.

Goal for 2020 – Continue to build the Sarcadian Atlas

My brain has been producing a copious amount of creativity the more I write. I don’t think the Sarcadian Atlas will be ready anytime soon as I see this being a “living world” which continues to build and grow the deeper I get into fleshing out more lore.

This is a good thing! The more the atlas grows the more the encyclopedia will grow. The more the encyclopedia grows the more the story of the Cardinal will grow. Parts of the atlas will be published alongside the encyclopedia so keep an eye on them!

The Eternal Monologue series completed & published!

I’m happy with all the feedback I’ve received from the Eternal Monologue series. Thank you all so much for your support. For those who haven’t read the series yet, you can check out all the stories published so far by clicking here!

I should apologise for not advising I was going to stop publishing the series throughout the Christmas and New Years period. The series will resume next Tuesday (7 January 2020) and will continue throughout the year.

Goal for 2020 – Publish the remaining entries of the Eternal Monologue series

As I mentioned mini stories of Atriarch, Elysia and Octavian will continue from 7 January 2020. There are thirteen more publications to come and I hope you all continue to enjoy them!

The first drafts of three “Menagerie” stories completed!

Remember how I said the past few months have been busy for me? Well, here’s one of the reasons why! I’ve commenced work on the “Menagerie” series which focuses on the first humans who were turned into vampires by the Fallen Son. There’ll be a focus on the last day or so of the person’s life before they meet their fate.

I’ve completed the drafts of three stories and enjoyed writing them perhaps a little too much!

Goal for 2020 – Continue working on the Menagerie series & potentially begin publishing

I plan on writing a lot Menagerie stories throughout 2020. I have ideas for at least fifty stories and the number could grow. Though Octavian initially turned three hundred people during his existence I doubt I’ll write that many stories. The focus will be on those vampires who have had relevance in Sarcadia’s history or who will play a part in the Cardinal series to come.

Speaking of which…

Work on the Cardinal series has begun!

I’m in the very early stages of beginning work on the Cardinal series. At this stage I’ve only mapped out the structure of the first three books. It might not sound like a lot but it’s a big step towards finally getting the series off the ground!

Goal for 2020 – Continue plotting out the entire series and begin the first draft of Book 1

I’ll be going away on holiday to Bali towards the end of January for some much-needed rest and relaxation. This should recharge my brain though I’ve got a feeling it will keep flooding my head full of ideas. When I return I’ll pick up where I left off and continue to flesh out the basic story arcs and plot for the entire Cardinal series. I’m hopeful to at least begin the first draft of Book 1 in late 2020. It’s going to be a very productive and busy year ahead but I’m looking forward to every single day of it!

That’s all for now! Thank you for reading and thank you for your continued support. Remember if you like what you’ve read please help spread the word about this website!

I hope you all have a great start to 2020 and remember to always be safe!

Take care!

W.F. Thorne

Just Like Father

It is said that every boy aspires to be like his father.

I attest this statement to be true, for there is no one I wish to be more than you, father.

You are regarded as being the greatest conqueror to have ever lived.

The Kabaalist child who rose to become ruler of Sarcadia.

The mortal, who slayed an immortal to become ruler of Caelum.

Such a remarkable feat that I truly believe I am incapable of replicating.

The stories I heard as a young child still captivate me as an adult.

The Supreme Lord of Sarcadia.

The Supreme Lord of Caelum.

The All-Father.

My father.

Just like you, I have trained since the age of eight in the art of combat.

I have mastered wielding the sword, the spear, and the shield.

Fighting is as natural as breathing.

I have been victorious in many duels against some of Caelum’s best warriors.

It infuriates the Caelestials.

A half-breed should not be capable of defeating a pure-bred.

But we both know their kind can easily be defeated.

I have filled my head with as much knowledge as I can learn.

I have been taught by some of the most ancient beings in Caelum.

They are impressed by my hunger for education.

Just as your teachers were when you were but a child.

Though I aim to follow you in your footsteps, I am filled with shame.

Yet it is not mine to I bear, but that of my brothers.

They drink too much, stumbling and staggering throughout the Realm of Light like buffoons.

They use their status to take advantage of men and women for sexual purposes.

Why would they do such things?

Why do they not wish to make you happy?

I confront them about this.

Yet they laugh at me.

Mock me.

Taunt me.

They owe everything to you.


I know in my heart you are already proud of me.

I idolise you.

I worship you.

You said that I would one day be destined for greatness.I hope one day I will prove myself to be worthy enough your son.

— “The Octavian Monologues: Just Like Father”, Bruce Boward, 218 AO

The Birth of Happiness

My wives have done well to bear me children.

My heart has been overflowing with joy since the birth of my eldest child, Jodarian.

The birth of every son adds to my ecstatic wealth.

Salinian. Lucian.

Faybian. Sevastian.

Zorian. Caspian.

My family continued to grow as did a happiness and love that I had not felt for aeons.

I thought it not possible for me to experience anything greater.

Alas, I was mistaken.

On the forty-first year of my Ascension, I was twice filled with overwhelming euphoria.

For this year, I celebrated the birth of my first daughter.

Skin as dark as mine.

And a bald head to match!

You did not cry when you were born.

Not a whimper.

Not a snivel.

Those at your birth thought you to be lame of the mind.

But I knew you were fierce the moment I gazed into your eyes.

Those deep, golden eyes of a proud, fearless lioness.

Those are not the eyes of a simpleton.

When your mother delivered you, she cried believing she failed me.

She thought I’d be disappointed at being denied another son.

But why should I be ashamed?

I have longed to have a little girl to call “daughter”.

You reminded me of my eldest sister – the strongest, bravest, and wisest woman I knew.

She taught me everything.

And I shall teach you everything I learnt from her.

Which is why I named you in her honour.


Your birth this year was not the only one to elate me.

You were to be joined one hundred days later by your new brother.

Skin light brown like a sun kissed Alibrii.

Hair as golden as the sands of the Al’Lamak Island.

Peaceful, sapphire-like eyes just like his brothers.

Just like his father.

Though tiny, I know you will grow stronger.

Just like your sister, you did not cry when you were born.

Not a whimper.

Not a snivel.

Instead, you laughed.

Those present during your birth thought you peculiar.

Not I.

No, my son, you are unique.

So full of life.

So full of energy.

So much potential to be something far greater than anyone imagined.

You shall be the precedence of your brothers, this I know.

I know you will.


— “The Atriarch Monologues: Birth of Happiness”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

Chatting with the Chatterer

I have dragged my bare feet across the jagged rock floor of Tenebris for weeks.

I ran and hid with my bloody intestines in my hands.

I fended off the dark fiends who wish to claim me for a trophy.

It does not matter who they are or what they are.

One by one they all fall at my feet, dead.

My reputation drew too much attention.

Had I been any other woman cast out to the Realm of Shadows I would be ignored, or at the very least used and immediately discarded.

But these fiends see me as a prize.

Do they think they claim me?

I am Elysia.

No man, no creature, no Supreme Lord shall ever claim me.

I have roamed the ghoulish fields and plains of Tenebris until I found him.

Or perhaps, he found me.

A building forged from the bones of the warmongering dead.

So tall of a structure it reached into the haunting abyss lingering above this damned realm.

The dark, thick heavy door opened with a bone-chilling creak.

Blue flames on floating black candles dimly lit my path as I wandered through the librarian labyrinth.

Endless rows of shelves filled with books made from the skin of Sarcadians and Tenebites.

Twisted staircases sprawled across the infinite room with no purpose other to confuse new guests.

I meandered for what felt like hours until I reached the pinnacle.

And there I found him.

Dozens of bony arms stretched out long like an octopus.

Dozens of skinny hands furnished with vile mouths filled with vile teeth.

A skeletal face that would horrify children as soon as they gaze upon him.

Dark, deep red eyes that must have seen so many things there would be not enough time to recollect everything.

A mouth so large it could bite a ship in two.

A mouth that has uttered damning words for millennia.

He had heard of what I done to that bastard child of mine yet wanted to hear it with my own words.

I told him and he bellowed a wheezy laugh.

He insisted I tell my tale again.

And again.

And again.

I grew angrier every time I recounted murdering that baby.

The words I spoke were drenched in more hatred and spite with each repeated recollection.

My host took pleasure in each rendition of my story as though hearing it for the first time.

When he had heard enough, he introduced himself to me in a surreal gentlemanly fashion.


The Chatterer of Secrets.

He welcomed me to his sanctuary and offered me assistance.

He restored my body and revitalised my energy.

I asked why he wanted to know my story so many times.

He wanted to know if the revenge I desired was worthy enough of his help.

He would be willing to help me?

But why?

Immediately, I assumed he wanted a doll to play with.

I am no toy. I told him this, but I was mistaken.

He wished to see Atriarch suffer.

“A being that should not be,” were the words he uttered.

I, too, wanted Atriarch to suffer.

The dark magic known to the Chatterer of Secrets is limitless.

And I desired to immerse myself in his knowledge.

I asked for him to teach me.

He obliged with one condition.

Again, I assumed he wanted to use me.

Again, I was wrong.

He wished for me to bind Tenebris to my will.

He wished for me to rule the Realm of Shadows as its dark Queen.

This would allow me to extract the vengeance against Atriarch that I desire.

Yes. That is exactly what I desire.




I have long said I am no one’s possession.

I have long said I am no one’s puppet.

But perhaps it is I who is destined to be the oppressor.

Perhaps it is I who is destined to be the master.

Yes. It is I one who shall be in control.

The All-Father shall fall.

The Dark Mother shall rise.

— “The Elysia Monologues: Chatting with the Chatterer”, Bruce Boward, 216 AO

First Born Dead

It should have been a joyful occasion.

The day a new life enters this world.

When a woman becomes a mother.

When a man becomes a father.

Today should have been one of celebration.

But alas, it is a day of mourning.

The overwhelming delight conveyed in my newborn son was annihilated as swift as his life was terminated.

My son.

You were only minutes old when you met your cruel end.

So fresh from the womb that your cord had yet to be severed.

I will never see you grow up.

Never see you walk or run.

Talk or laugh.

Would you have been a warrior?

Perhaps a healer?

You could have brought so much good into this world.

You could have brought so much love into my life.

You had so much to learn.

So much to do.

An eternity of experience was at your beckoning.

But now, your life is forfeit.

You were stolen from me in the most malicious way.

Your death was evil at its purest form by the hands of your own mother.

Your mother.

The woman who I was once bewildered by.

The one who I so desired to take as a wife.


How could she do this to you?

How is any woman capable of murdering the life that grew inside of her?

Your death was cruel and should not have been, my son.

You did nothing wrong, but I need to know – why did you die?

Why, Elysia?

Why did you kill our child?

When I appeared before you at Mount Titus, I wept tears of joy as I saw you cradling our newborn son.

I knew he was mine the moment I looked upon his sapphire-coloured eyes.

I looked at you and smiled, yet you resisted the euphoria of childbirth.

You just stared at me with an emptiness in your eyes.

You placed our child gently on the cold floor of my temple, removed your hidden knife and…

… You monster.

I cannot bring myself to say the things you did to him.

What you did was not the act of a mother.

What you did were things only a Tenebite is capable of.

That is why I sent you to the Realm of Darkness.

You belong with your own kind.

You deserve the suffering that shall fall upon you.

A justifiable sentence for a mother who dared to kill her own child.

I will never understand why you did such a vile thing to my son.

You said this was my fault.

My fault?

Was it not you who asked me to leave you alone?

Did you not wish to be left alone on Sarcadia so you could continue your work?

I heard your pleas the day you said you were tortured by your own people.

I heard you beg for me to come to you, yet I recall no mention of your pregnancy.

This is your revenge?

You punished our son… MY son, because you felt it necessary?

You could have spent an eternity with me in the Realm of Light.

Perhaps my son would still be alive.

The Caelestials encourage me to look to the future.

They tell me to ignore the death of one child and take pleasure in knowing I can have more.

But I shan’t forget you, my son.

Though you only existed for minutes you shall live on in my heart forever.

A father should tell his newborn: “Welcome”.

Yet today I am to tell you: “Goodbye”.

— “The Atriarch Monologues: First Born Dead”, Bruce Boward, 214 AO

A Blasphemous Whore


“You dare claim you carry the child of the All-Father?”


“If this is true, why won’t our Supreme Lord appear to validate your proclamation?”


“Because you are a whore that speaks not but blasphemy!”


“You succumb to your lustful needs, laid with a man or several men, and spread allegations you were impregnated by the All-Father?!”


“You disgrace us! You disgrace the Supreme Lord Atriarch!”


Their fists were remorseless as they struck me.

My fingernails were ripped off one-by-one.

They tied me to a rack and set fire to the soles of my feet.

They flogged me until the bones of my back were exposed through ribbons of flesh.

They rubbed salt and lemon juice into my wounds.

They kicked and stomped on me for hours when their fists tired.

They demanded to know who the father was.

They wanted to the name of the man who I broke my vow of celibacy for.

I kept telling them it was your child.

I kept telling them it was you who I laid with.

Yet they kept calling me a whore.

They tied me to the rack once more and whipped me, only this time it was across my swollen belly.

Not once did I cry out or scream, but I did when knowing the life of our child was in danger

I called out to you. I begged you to save me.

I pleaded for you to make them stop and declare that the babe growing inside of me was yours.

You listened not.

They grew tired of waiting for me to speak.

They grabbed me by the hair, dragged me from their torture chambers and tied me behind a horse.

The beast charged into the woods.

My body bounced violently across rocks, stones and the dirt floor.

The rope binding me to the horse snapped, and I tumbled down a steep hill.

And now here I lie, comforted by the shadows within this deep, dank cavern having survived an unjust tribulation.

It hurts to move.

It hurts to breath.

My limbs are numb.

My mind is exhausted.


That word pierced me deeper than any sharp blade ever could.

That word hurt me more than any other torture.

Is that what I was to you?

A whore, just like all of those other women you claimed as your wives?

When you left you said you would watch over me from the Realm of Light.

Did you watch as those I once called family violated me with their heinous tools?

Did you not hear my pleas to save me and save your child over the insults they shouted?



Is that all I was to you?!

Was this punishment for not allowing you to remain inside of me for eternity?!

Do you only see me as a prize?!

Do you not see me as the mother of your child?!

Despite the pain, despite the suffering, I am still with your child.

I can feel its tiny heart beating inside of me.

He is strong.

He is a survivor.

Just like his mother.

Yes, a boy.

That is what you wanted, is it not? A son?

I will give birth to your, no, my son, and he shall never know who his father is. You will never get to know him.

Perhaps then you will regret not coming to the aid of your family.

Perhaps then you will regret not defending me from their accusations.

Perhaps then you will regret not stopping them from calling a word that will haunt me for the rest of my life.


— “The Elysia Monologues: A Blasphemous Whore”, Bruce Boward, 216 AO

The Supreme Conception

You have only been gone a hundred days, yet I feel I have missed you for years.

We spent many passionate nights together, yet I feel I have spent an eternity with you.

My Supreme Lord.

My All-Father.

My Atriarch.

I have experienced things I never thought possible.

When I think back to when you first appeared to me my body shivers with exhilaration.

The memory and emotion I felt when I gazed upon your divine manifestation is as fresh as ripe fruit.

Your body, with skin as dark as the midnight sky, was perfect in every way.

There exists no artwork nor literature which could ever accurately describe you.

But it was your eyes, as blue as the ocean, which captivated me.

I knew instantly you were mine just as much as you knew I was yours.

I asked what you wanted me to do.

You just wanted to know everything about me.

I indulged my Supreme Lord and spoke for hours.

I told you everything – from my time being groomed into a wife to my time as a most zealous servant.

When there was nothing left to tell you, I asked you what you wanted me to do.

You just wanted to spend more time with me.

We explored the corners of Alibrium — from the ruins of Pyzodine to the peak of Mount Titus.

When there was nothing left for you to see, I asked you what you wanted to do.

You took my timorous hands into your firm yet gentle grip.

You leaned forward and whispered: “Start a family”.

In that moment, I knew I was yours.

In that moment, I knew you were mine.

My Supreme Lord.

My All-Father.

My Atriarch.

For days we embraced one another with passionate vigour.

Each time we made love my body was paralysed in an ecstasy.

Though it was only a hundred days ago, I can still feel you.

Trickles of bliss still lingers and tauntingly tickles me.

When we finally decided we were satisfied, you asked me to join you in Caelum.

You wanted me to be mother to your children.

You wanted me to be your eternal bride.

While I do love my All-Father, I will not allow myself to be controlled.

No man nor god shall confine me to the role of a slave.

I told you I regretfully decline your invitation for there was much to do on Sarcadia still.

There were many heathens who needed to be converted.

There were many who needed to die for disrespecting the Supreme Lord.

You were surprised, perhaps heartbroken by my rejection.

You simply nodded your head.

And wished me well.

And that was the last I saw of you.

For years I served the All-Father.

I prayed every day for you to give me a sign that you were impressed with my devotion.

I have received your sign.

You have rewarded me with child.

The cause of this illness plaguing me for days is now known.

I am with child – this I am certain.

I am blessed to be the first to bear Atriarch a child.

I shall deliver the babe to him, but I shall remain on Sarcadia and continue to serve him.

Should he decide to return to me and ask me to bear another, I shall happily do so.

But I won’t allow him to own me.

He’s my Supreme Lord.

He’s my All-Father.

My Atriarch.

— “The Elysia Monologues: The Supreme Conception”, Bruce Boward, 216 AO