The northern people declared war upon us, and Warlord Chik-Chan came to me seeking a prophecy.

But the stars were silent. In helpless fury, Chik-Chan shattered the sanctuary above and defiled the observatory, sealing me within.

Death draws near. I know this place will become my grave. My strength is nearly spent; thirst clouds my sight. Yet the stars see all. They whisper to me of vengeance.

Chik-Chan will soon perish. A warband of the northern people will come for the chieftain’s daughter and kill him, casting his body into the swamps near my grave. There it will change—swelling and twisting, entwining with the earth and with roots born of corruption.

The stars whisper to me of the calamity Chik-Chan has brought upon my people. But here, there is no one left who can hear me.