As the High Lord laid in wait, he dreamed of his congregation's victory.

His Goldflow had revealed to their people the ancient wealth of the Old World, not just the treasure within the strongholds, but the knowledge in bringing the New World to its rightful glory.

His Churchead had collected his faithful following. His people understood the necessity of unity and they served to see destiny fulfilled.

The army under the command of Shadow's Venator had quenched the flames of insurrection and killed all who dared oppose the union of the New World.

Then there was the Keeper of Threads, his dear Keeper. The one tasked as herald for the New World. Her maturity and shedding of her old persona brought forth the light the High Lord and all who worshipped him had been waiting for.

While thinking about this in his unconscious state, a taste formed in his mouth. It was the taste of stone, dust, and metal. He knew what this meant: his words were foundation and his victory was assured.