Is this really what the First Ones want? Annihilation of everything that has gone before, a wholly new beginning? Surely the magic wound into the stones of our most ancient cities will protect them, but in the fury of the Yellow Lord’s power—everything else will be reduced to ashes. I can’t understand why this seems to mean nothing to my kinsfolk. It’s like we are stones, changing little with time, not heeding the fates of the mayflies who live and die all around us. Maybe it’s my own fault, for pretending to be a mayfly. But I don’t want to be a stone.
