(as debriefed by Xolotl with final thoughts by The Maker consciousness)

The masters of the universe universally bow to the god you’ve become, as the sun sets it sight on Armageddon. Metamorphosis sees you with strength to move the world, open a door through darkness and tow us like a chariot. We’re carried thus to destinations far and wide, ‘cause you it seems have chromosomes akin to our antiquated avian ancestors.

Don’t you know what you are? Blessed with wings that enshroud in lightning. Sharira you have become.

Bound no more by the circuitry and now free from the depths of your soulless existence (bleak and mundane) since you slayed your way to life. Soul returned, memories learned; all this via he who built you into the saviour. He saw that your strong suit was armour with the courage to lead. Needed one to replace him, link ions and become siamesed. Bronson was only vincible to that which he formed of your ghost.

Now the hourglass has exploded with the rampaging dead. The bond has been broken, The Maker bled, as foresaid. You know the Byron’s role, they consume the horde of souls, erupt, they form the hinges and frame the portal. “Here”, “when?”, “why?” is of grave importance. The light of our sun’s solar detonation is upon us. The moon of this eclipse plays lens, bends light due to density and sends it directly to the singularity forming the door. Guess what you’re here for? Reprieve! Delaying impending doom, they could be set free with proper use of your natal chi. Your force will open the doorway, our point of exit; tearing the theorized string to bring them sanctuary.

Only got a second to say that I wove this chain in a husk of yottawatts to anneal an anchor. But I need you to be the ‘taxi’, one who will go and literally tow all as a whole, mountain to seafloor. Thread us through the eye of the needle, the worm of the portal. Pull! With your wings that enshroud in lightning. Look inwards to reach the other side. Embrace the end.

121,321 years, 19 days, 18 hours, 9 minutes and 16 seconds: a long awaited moment. I knew long ago I‘d be too weak to play your part, too weak to part the stars. And so I found you and entrusted you with the weight of this world. Heavy is the burden, which you pull through the door. Fear not little one, in death I rest inside as the navigator. And so you must fly!

Master of dimensions, now’s your time!