And so had time come to an end, or atleast the conciousness around it.
By the decree of the denimus, errors sprouted from one man's ambition to break down the walls of his home had been set right.
No longer would its children roam in confusion and intrige, all that now remained were the sirens of a city in a true time.
A time without a denimus, a place without anyone to tell of this history but me.. Huban; a fool that once thought he had the world in his hands.
A fool that once thought that he had control over his home enough to tamper with forces that could have broken it down.
I am ashamed that i bear the name of Zansevelt and its history, i am ashamed that beyond my grasp worlds were affected, other homes.
And so i have decided to let this story go to waste, I look upon Eliu and hear its cry and cannot be bothered but look upon Esau and wonder if i can rebuild it.. afterall..it is my garden.