My will is made manifest, that which was concieved is congealing…
The Throne will be mine, soon…the riddle revealed, by fiat alone is it achieved.
Or, the Curtain will fall in this final act.
I told you, Astaroth, swine I called brother, I would come back around.
You feeling me now, Socratica? Still Illuminated?
Do you laugh now? Am I funny now?
My words, another’s voice, another’s body….