These raiders are mongrels, poisoned creatures tainted by the touch of the enemy. If this is what is wrought by the enemy’s touch, I can understand why the ancestor’s spirits gibber madly when pressed about the fall. Father’s eyes see the past more and more clearly, but the toll upon his mind leads him further and further from any ability to relate it coherently. Tillian and Ezlia speak with him, but their conversations grow more incomprehensible by the day, even Felina cannot follow the path of their words with any certainty. I feel that our lot leaves us few options, and the lack of knowledge only reinforces my beliefs. We can only be certain of our own purity and must assume that all else in this world has been twisted by the touch of the enemy. The purging fire, delivered by the righteousness of our cause shall birth this world again into the glory that is our birthright.