I once met a traveller of the night sky, old and frail, but determined to move on, and he gave me a plaque rolled in paper coated in cloth and gold leaf. On the marble rock these words appear: "There is a land that none know of, so close yet so far away, that shines like a dim sun in the night sky among the stars, always spinning, turning, watching the world yet blind and within the claws of a higher being. As he destroys stars, bends time, and does no less than anything and everything he pleases, he utters these words:

"'I am Stellwaris, king of kings, god of gods. Kneel before me, ye mighty, for your will is my will, your homes mine and your greatest achievements my making.'

"He desires now the five of destiny, the five of stalking darkness, and the six of lost for his audience, for he must fix the world after the stalker of night rampaged across it once again."

I turned to the traveller to find him disappeared, not a speck of dust to be found nor a note nor a footprint, not even a sound, but the other side of the plaque now read, "to a fellow traveller, may your far future be bright and your afterlife even brighter."