And thusly, the page turns, the layered city plunges further into war against itself for itself, as there is no other path but destruction of one, or the other. Blood is spilt- the realm around begins to fall apart, Ragnarök is surely upon us, as crystalline shards of blue sprout from the earth as a cancer, and the realm is bombarded with surges and swells of calamity, torn asunder as humanity's blood flows into the shards of reality. Yet, many in the screaming destruction find quiet respite. They find love. They find home. For even in the face of annihilation, the darkness is but a shadow, one casted by a bright light of resolution and determination to scream "I am alive, I am here, and I do not care." Rage, rage against the end.