Their demise was legendary, and their evanescence upon a great pyre that kindled with enmity and ardor, until the stridor of palpitating hearts and rapid breaths became the sorrowful silence of beloved but lost souls. The prosperous realms of antiquity were impaled upon their own scythes of treachery and anathema, their animosity was their damnation, while in the past it had been the very provenance of their ascension. Why, then, despite the empires’ surrender to bitter mortality, do pensive reminiscents still speak of their parlous havens in fearful whispers? Why, knowing their rise was also their downfall, can’t they forget what had been so inspired in candid dreams?

The past is not so easily forsaken, and, try as it might, the phoenix cannot abandon its immortality. Again, it has risen from the ashes, decrepit and trivial, with the potential to reclaim its former glory, its flaming wings predicting the new illusions that lie ahead. The forlorn children of a forgotten world cannot deny the appeal of the comfort of companions and the potency of commanding fearsome armies, but as their innate inclination towards survival lures them forward maudlin sentiments tear them back. Memory can be a mirror that shows two faces - we’re too eager to accept the vibrant joviality of those languid days of mirth, but yet, there is, still, the horror and absurdity of everything that lies besides our inner demons... be careful, for equilibrium is hard to be found, and the wheel of Fortune is still rolling... one day you're up, one day you're down...

Are you ready for this offer of a second chance?

Eclypse v3: Liberation