He waits by the rocks of the darkened sea, at the foot of the long, sudden drop. Within the maw of pointed-teeth beasts, the stutter of the heart, then stopped... He was the fifth. The fifth Bishop of the Old Faith. Our brother, The One Who Waits. Back then he was known by the name Narinder. But as millennia wore on, he grew discontent with his role. He began to question. He was gluttonous in his ambition. And in my imprudence I loved him. For it, I lost my mind. For it, he lost his freedom. Can you fathom such betrayal, Lamb? Of your own turned against you? Would you like to find out? He was the fifth. The fifth Bishop of the Old Faith. Our brother, The One Who Waits. Back then he was known by the name Narinder.

I am not what I once was. Though no longer wise, I am no fool. I know the end draws near. I can take some comfort in confession. The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change; for my domain is knowledge, and it is ever evolving. An organic state of being for myself, but for him... most unnatural. Death cannot flow backward. It was I who had him chained. Forced into subjugation by the four of us. Subjugated as you too soon shall be. Make peace, bow to me, Lamb.

Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift... I did not want him to be... lonely...