" When the stone flower blooms in the heart of the hungering city,
the leashed shall snap their chains,
the parasites shall feast on their masters,
and the will of the forgotten will drown the world in fire. ,,

- Chapter 8, Verse 2, The Prophetics of Murkew

" In spires high, they chant your name—a dirge, a dare, a spark,

For none could chain the wills that roared like tempests in the dark.
Yet you, unyielding, carved your creed where guilds and monsters reign,
A flower wrought from ancient stone to bear the world's disdain.

Beneath the pallid gaze of gods who leech what souls endure,
You taught the cursed to clutch their rage, to hunger, bleed, and cure.
The parasite's sweet croon you spurned, its promise of the throne,
For strength unbound by borrowed claws is carved in blood alone.

But lo, the petals stir the deep where shadowed hungers gnaw,
Their whispers weave through fractured minds, unmaking mortal law.
What thrives in you, that stubborn pulse, the city seeks to rend.
To break the flower, stem, and root... or bow to what you bend. ,,

- Eulogy of the Unbroken Will, from "The Ballad"