A letter found in a room in a manor near Greenstone.

Dear Georg,

I have seen the rite. Once. I need to see it again.

Their theology is nonsense. Cosmic debt, karmic inheritance. Pitiable. But something happened when the boy died, something came out of him and went into the gem and I felt it from across the room. It had weight. It had warmth.

If this working reaches an unwilling soul, Georg. If it truly does.

We would not need them to come to us. We would not need them to want it. Every corrupted, contaminated, obstinate creature who has ever looked at what we offer and turned away. We could bring them home anyway. All of them. Every last one.

Purity demands nothing less. It never has. We simply lacked the means.

[The letter ends here, obviously incomplete.]