So familiar. On a more petty scale, perhaps, but the Lands Between had known something similar. The whole land had revolved around Leyndell, the tall and willowy princelings who claimed some fraction of gods' blood, or blessings from the tree above.

Those that fell beyond their reach bowed to Caria instead, mining glintstone for their sorcerer-nobles. The demigods had benefited from the fiction that they were any different from their mortal courtiers, but who set the example?

"Then you can understand why this land needs a new dynasty. One that loves as the old did not." One that they would both hasten, he was sure of this now.

"Here. Drink this. Now that your wounds are clean, this can heal the worst of them." He only had enough for one draught, insufficient to fully heal and purge the body. The Erdtree's dregs cared not whether new flesh closed over muck, and left wounds to fester.

"When day breaks and the Night's Cavalry retreats, we can make for a site of grace, and heal the rest."