“Bought and sold was your price, yourselves as hostages.

Bred and torn of this soil, your killer; master of this foil.

I say no more and never will, succumb to such suffering.

Stay your words; stem the doubt, within without.

The Prime is here, but you should not fear.

For a childe born of cold caress, shall bear recommence?

That what was gone will be reborn.

And if this is the last thing said, if you must, gather my soul.

It has turned to dust.

It clings to unlikelihood, and all these things birthed from truth.”

Kishaa raises the baby.


I see a worldhealer when I see one. I challenge with "Infant No More."