The Moon

The Fickle Lady shows me things, my friends. Terrible
things. A time of tumult for all our kind. I see an empty throne
and a rotting mountain corpse. An ancient prison throws open
its doors, and a plague of locusts who walk like men descends on
the land. The dead rise to become gods, and gods fall to become
as the dead. A great fire erupts in the South, greater than has ever
been seen before. Five score is the number of the dead princes.
Two score and ten is the number of the green sun princes who
break the world. May the Lady save us all!

-the final prophecy of Ingosh Silverclaws, RY 762.

The Moon

Exalted: In A Mirror Darkly insomniabob insomniabob