The curtain has been raised and it's (finally!) the last act. Ahh, have these chronicles come to an end, really? After all this time, it's hard to believe that this is really the end. The last human, standing in the ashes of the fallen, damned to be eaten by the worms and blossom into flowers. But that is the only means of paradise, isn't it? Without absolute sadness, true divinity cannot exist. Redemption is the only means, and that's why we must fight our bloody battle before the curtain falls.
So I feel regenerated. Renewed. I feel like I can actually stand and fight. The weakness is gone, for whatever reason. The fact I can actually believe in something, I suppose, drive it all away. Like a stroll down memory lane.
The moonshine makes the wolves giddy. Eager, even. The pure animalistic need to snap your jaws around something, if nothing in particular. The years have passed and things have changed, even us. But at the end of the day, we're still standing here. I don't know what will happen. I don't know if we'll all make it. I don't know what kind of symphony harkens the end of what used to be, but I know I'm ready. To fight, to die, to live...whatever it takes, I will burn the wastes.
It's time to go home. Forever.
Spoil and shake for the battle ahead. This world is really just ours for the taking.