Try as I might, I cannot deliver the gifts of Democracy to the Ereb'ai. They are a society of near-immortals isolated for millenia; who have cultivated their Weltanschauung into a Gordian Knot, so entranched that even when their god-king was destroyed they continued their Machiavellian ways with a minimal disruptions!
"Lord Senator". "Congressman Baronet". They insist on calling me "His Royal Presidency." It makes my head spin! I have half a mind to call myself Emperor and be done with it.
Now the stakes have gotten much higher. A vision of the Sephiroth appeared over the Palace. Where the populace were once in open rebellion, they are now holding vigil, worshipping the shimmering lights, their pure colors breaking the dome of crimson and soot clouds forever rumbling over the eternal darkness.
According to the remaining archives, it heralds the Dawn (yes, in this sunless realm they have this word in Ereb'ai, possibly invented by travellers to the Surface. Used in local context exclusively as an abstraction) of the Princess of Hell.
The anguish washing over me tells me what this means. Not only is Qlippothic dying, but the Sephiroth themselves are becoming unstable. If she and the Spheres pass into this realm, they will be corrupted. Yes, the Ereb'ai will depose me for this new Queen. But that would be the least of our worries.
Koen, you should have kept the damn sword! You could have killed Ya Yimawa forever!
What can I do? Can my prayers be heard even from the throne of Hell?