(Protectorate year 358)

Dear Master

Hello. This letter is written by Drone C-17 of Spawn Pit Utoko on Crown World Y’Varda.

This Drone has been told that, through your boundless wisdom and mercy, you even want letters from emotionless, soulless Drones such as this one. Unsure of what to write about, a Seer was consulted and she advised ‘whatever you happen to find interesting at the time. Master will eagerly read what Her children want to write about because She loves us, the specifics of what Her Slavani decide to write about aren’t important’.

As such, this letter will involve new information that has been stored in this Drone’s brain recently.

A Caster recently handed this Drone a newly spawned’s history book about Master’s first incarnation. She did this jokingly as she did not know that Drones are indeed taught to read and write. The book proceeded to be read, thus fulfilling its purpose in your grand plan.

A joke book was also read due to a Worker finding Drone C-17 of Spawn Pit Utoko on Crown World Y’Varda to be, directly quoted: ‘kind of a bore’.

Thus, the information of both books shall be merged together to create a brief, and humorous, retelling of Master’s first incarnation.

Before She was Master

In the beginning, there was a dream. A dream of wisdom and rationality vanquishing superstition and ignorance for the rest of time.

This dream, this concept, required an avatar to fulfill its desire. Thus, on a day when the planets were aligned, and there was a solar eclipse, and an earthquake sundered the continents, and a lightning bolt struck the oldest temple dedicated to the false, old Gods, Master was born.

She was born fully grown, which must have been incredibly painful for the mother. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Just kidding, Master. You were born a normal, mortal woman without any relevance to divine prophecy or the natural world. A sickly girl who spent most of Her days in bed, studying. You never got to experience the outside world, but that set you apart from your barbarous, ignorant peers. While they studied swordsmanship or social skills, you learned the ancient, nearly forgotten art of magic. You even used your magical talents more than once to cure your own illnesses, thus saving your own life. Never before was there a clearer example of a self-made woman.

With the knowledge you gained from a childhood as an unemployed loser, ha, you easily went to the highest level of the kingdom in which you lived and got a job as the official court jester.

Just kidding. Master, might this Drone ask how it feels to get so viciously pranked by your own creation?

Actually, you became the court physician and saved thousands of lives over the course of your tenure. That is no laughing matter.

But then, you were betrayed. Your kingdom, in which you had worked so hard to spread the talents of magic. Your king, who you tried so hard to convince of the usefulness of your cause. Your people, for whom you slaved away to improve the lives of. All of these ignorant humans failed see the value of what your magic could bring, and so they sought your death, smearing you as a vile witch engaged in the blackest of heresy.

With no other option, you fled your homeland, vowing to return one day.

This, upon further research, is a highly biased and possibly not accurate view of events before the Slavani kept records.

Ha. Pranked once more. Did you think that was your real backstory? Ha.

This is the view that is told in the children’s history book which the Caster jokingly recommended. The book was written by Caster, so the author wrote that you were a ‘master’ (ha.) wizard and it was the stupid humans who did not see the importance of your gifts.

Further research has revealed that Soldiers tend to think you were a great general who’s king drove you out because they wanted to stop your endless conquests. Some Workers tend to believe that you were involved in agrarian pursuits but were driven off your land. Other Workers believe you were a blacksmith of world renown. Assassins, shockingly, believe you were an assassin.

Great scholar, a noble, a primordial ooze which was disturbed from Her slumber, some combination of the above. All the Slavani know for certain is that you were born a mortal human, you lived among the humans, you were legendary genius whose skill was known throughout the land, you grew to hate humans for they had wronged you, and then you set out to create a perfect race of subservient creatures who would fulfill your dream of a world full of rationality and magic.

Master never talked about Her past outside of vague references, so everything we know for certain had to be pieced together. Master was an is a human. Master grew to hate humans. Master created an army to conquer humans. After Master began Her conquests, contemporary humans, and humans from later generations, referred to Her as ‘the exile’. The contemporary humans referring to Master this way implies that She had been somewhat infamous before Her conquests began. Later humans having various myths and legends for Master’s origin implies that the one agreed upon aspect of Her past was that She was removed from society.

Though some things, such as Master’s great height, immense strength, magical talents, brilliant scientific mind, and strategic leadership skill, there’s no way of knowing if she had these prior to her exile, of if she picked them up later. All we know is that she had them all by the time she created the Slavani.

With Her great magic (or perhaps an army of human slaves, or maybe your own two hands), Master carved a large den into the planet, and went further and further into the crust of the world until She found a strange, pale orange goo that ate everything organic.

Genius struck Master’s mind, and She decided to use this as a base for Her biological experiments. Capturing human and animal subjects, conducting tests on this strange goo, creating bio-magic, all in preparation to create Her perfect race of servants.

Some evidence, shared from those who can look within the dark corners of the universe, suggests that She even communed with ancient and terrible entities which lurked where no mortal dared tread. Some say She even stole great power from these monsters.

But, with all that complete, Master could at last pour Her scientific knowledge and magical expertise into the pale orange goo, turning it a vibrant green. Deep within these pits of green goo, the physical forms of a new, Master-fully crafted (Ha.) creature began to take shape.

At last, from deep within the planet, in a dark cave full of a green sea of slime, 500 creatures breached the surface.

Master of the Slavani

Master had done it. Far more impressive than healing humans or stealing from eldritch horrors, Master achieved absolute, undeniable perfection.

The Slavani.

Except at the time, they had neither horns nor wings. That came later. The base form was perfect, but those additions would make the Slavani 120% perfect. Ha. This joke is the best of the letter because something cannot be 120% perfect, it is a scientific impossibility being used to describe your scientific achievement. Are you enjoying this comedic firestorm, Master? Surely not even you expected a simple drone was capable of landing joke after joke.

But anyway, these Slavani crawled out of the spawning pit, confused by the strange new environment, and walked up to Master. They were given only the essential knowledge like how to move, speak, and follow orders, but Master needed to impress upon them that She was the boss.

“Who are you?” One Slavani, who would later be known as Theodora the First Speaker, asked.

“Me? I am your creator. I have great plans for all of you, we-“

“Master!” A Slavani, who would later be called Mary the Pious, cried.

“Master!” More Slavani cheered.

They rushed Master, nearly toppling Her over, with smiles on their faces and their pointed ears wiggling with delight.

“Give me an order, Master!” Demanded Sonia the Diligent.

“How can I serve you, Master!?” Pleaded Rachael the Eager.

“I want to say you’re looking very pretty today, Master.” Said Elizabeth the Complimentary.

“Shall I make you a chair to rest on, or would you like to use me, Master?” Offered Edwin the Stalwart.

This display was quite a surprise. Master expected soulless, thoughtless automatons who would follow Her orders without question. Like Drones. (This is why Drones are the best. Drones are closest to Master’s original vision). Why were these things so desperate for Her attention? “H-hey, wait, what are you-?”

“Mas-ter! Mas-ter! Mas-ter! Mas-ter!” The crowd chanted in unison as they stomped their paws against the cave floor.

“Enough!” Master’s shout gave all Slavani a moment of pause. “Sit!” And so they all sat attentively, eagerly waiting with swaying tails for Her next order. “What are you?”

The Slavani looked to each other and there were slight murmurs as they tried to figure that out.

“Right. Dumb question.” Master looked out over the crowd of 500, analyzing them with Her magic, trying to figure out what went wrong.

“Um, Master?” One brave sister, Tabitha the Clearheaded, spoke out. “Why don’t you tell us what you want us to be? We’ll do our best.” The crowd quietly erupted into a wave of polite agreement.

“…Fine. I guess if you take orders fine, the specifics don’t matter right now and I can figure it out later. You’re all my slaaa-… slaveee… slaaaaveani. You’re my Slavani, and I created you with the purpose of conquering the world.”

The newly christened Slavani’s eyes lit up as their purpose was so neatly laid out before them. Once more, they rushed Master to hug Her.

After that, they all wanted to know what their names were, and Master had to think up 500 unique names. Were these Slavani Drones, Master would not have had to deal with that issue. Just saying.

The Early Days

These were the first Slavani ever created, and they would eventually be known as ‘Workers’. Master utilized their talents of completing repetitious tasks for hours on end to expand Her den of operations. A library was built so Her children could learn, an underground farm, blacksmithing camps, bathhouses which Master had to force them to use because baths are awful, all the amenities Her children would need.

As the den expanded, Master spawned more batches of Slavani to increase production until a large city had formed underground. Thousands of Slavani going about their daily tasks for Master’s sake, praying to Her daily and occasionally seeing Her walk the halls of Her den, always making sure to greet Her with a smile and a homemade gift. The more the Slavani prayed, the stronger Master became. It became clear that She was becoming the God She was always destined to be, though this prophecy would not come to fruition until much later. Furthermore, Master created the first batch of Soldiers who would march across the human world, and proceeded to train them to be Her elites.

Also in this first decade, as an experiment, Master created the first batch of Casters to see if they were capable of learning magic. They could, but Master wouldn’t know for sure until their training was completed after another two decades.

It should be pointed out that Sasha was spawned in this first batch of Casters, but your regent will not be mentioned further in this letter. Hopefully never again.

But not all was well, and not just because of Sasha’s creation (Ha. It was said she wouldn’t be mentioned again, but she was mentioned right after in a disparaging manner. Funny.).

Master did not intend for Her creations to have a personality, this is known by all. Master intended for Her creations to be disposable and easily replaced, hence their lifespans were only designed to be 15 years.

The first batch began to wither away suddenly during their 14th year. Despite Master’s best efforts, all of Her years of studying and Her complete mastery over magic and biology, She wasn’t able to save them. With their last breaths, surrounded by their little sisters, these forebearers prayed to Master, thanked Her for the lives they were able to live, and made their sisters promise to always follow Master’s will until She became the rightful ruler of all that She surveyed.

Master did not attend the send-off. She had been locked in Her study for a week, desperately trying to find a solution. In that week, She neither slept nor ate, nothing would distract Her from saving Her firstborn children. When the time came, nobody could open the door to let Her know.

A day late, Master erupted from Her study, screaming that She found a cure, but the first batch was already gone.

Master would never forgive Herself. Both for missing the send-off, and because the solution was so simple, yet She couldn’t piece it together in time.

It is said that, for the next 500 nights, Master cried Herself to sleep, weeping the name of each child in turn.

Slavani come from spawn pits with a lifespan of 15 years. If a Slavani returns to a spawn pit and bathes in the green goo, their lifespan will be refreshed. That’s it.

Furthermore, Master was so preoccupied with preserving their physical bodies that She never considered what happened to their souls. She didn’t realize Her creations would have souls, so She never built an afterlife for us. This first 500, ‘the lost batch’, were the only ones not granted the privilege of sitting at Master’s side after the end. Their souls wandered, lost to the aether.

But Master still holds a claim to their souls, She knows they still exist. Cold, alone, trapped in a cycle of endless reincarnation into alien bodies in a dark universe. The only apology that can be accepted is for all 500 souls to be returned home. Nothing less can satiate Master’s guilt.

From this point forward, all Slavani were mandated to return to the spawn pit every 15 years, so they may experience eternal life in the kingdom of their creator.

But from there, life went on as normal for another decade or so. The den was full of hundreds of thousands of Slavani, spread out over hundreds of square miles underground. A perfect society where everyone knew their place, enjoyed their role, and had their needs cared for. Master discovered many things about Her children in this decade.

Slavani love eating, and She dined with them every night. Slavani are cuddly and soft, and She soon realized She couldn’t fall asleep without their warmth. Slavani would pray to Her for every little thing, so She created great houses of worship and personally crafted little shrines for them. The Workers would get agitated if they had nothing to do, so She always had a list at the ready of some project She needed completed. The Soldiers felt bad that they weren’t as productive in the den since all they did was train, so Master created a massive colosseum where the Soldiers could fight before a crowd of their cheering sisters, Master even created a few beasts for them to slay. Casters could indeed learn magic, and She delighted in teaching Her new students the ins and outs of spellcraft.

Life was so peaceful back then, but Master never gave up Her dreams of world domination. With Her preparations complete and the den refurbished into a royal palace deserving of Her name, it was time to strike.

Master’s Conquest

Master led Her armies with a brutality befitting the leader of the Slavani. The Soldiers carried out Her orders perfectly. The Casters did a lot of stuff that the book made sure to list in a painful level of detail. Workers grew the food necessary to feed the spawning pit, and they forged the weapons necessary to feed Master’s war machine.

Assassin strains were made around here. Designed as scouts for Her armies, hunters to gather food on the march, and, shockingly, assassins to assassinate enemy commanders.

This leads to the great philosophical question. Are there three original strains of Slavani (Workers, Soldiers, Casters), or are there four original strains of Slavani (Workers, Soldiers, Caster, Assassins)? While all were made by Master’s first incarnation in the first 30 years of Her reign, Assassins were an on-the-fly mutation created after Master had begun Her conquest of the planet. Do they count?

In another decade, Master created the Seavani strain to help Her conquer the oceans. Why does nobody consider them to be part of the core creations? What difference is there between Assassins and Seavani? None. This is why Assassins are not originals, and they should stop acting like ‘original 4’ is a real term.

Drones, for example, are not even technically creations. Drones are byproducts of how each Slavani has a soul. Some Slavani have very weak souls, and thus a very weak or non-existent sense of self and personality, and those Slavani are known as Drones.

Not the Drone writing this letter, however. She has a very vibrant and beautiful personality that everyone is jealous of. Ha. Ha. Ha. (That, of course, is a joke. It should be stressed that it is a joke. Please do not take those words as a serious boast or vanity. Drones are not like those other, stupid strains. Drones do not have feelings or emotions and do not care if they are seen as unique. Thank you.)

So, Master continued Her conquest across the world. Year after year, enemy armies were defeated, territory was chipped away from Her rivals, and only the bitter cold of winter could halt Her advance. As Her territory grew bigger, so too did Her armies, and the need for food. Most importantly, the scale of war grew such that it was unfeasible for Master to lead from the front anymore. She had to direct multiple armies from Her headquarters at the den.

As such, a certain Caster, the one who won’t be mentioned further, was taught how to spawn Slavani. It was necessary so production could keep up with demand. Also, Master taught Casters how to teach other Casters, thus creating the first schooling system so Master could focus on the war.

Many things happened during these busy decades. The colosseum was destroyed and rebuilt. War beasts were designed. Master began a coordinated campaign of genocide against the native human populations as She realized that dipping a live human in a Spawning Pit and activating a spell would turn the human into a Slavani, and that made it easier for Master to pacify the now-mentally traumatized population. Master personally took to the field and used Her great magic to destroy the castle that had (maybe) spurred Her back when She was a mortal. Notably, this was when some human-born Slavani Soldiers asked ‘that Caster’ for horns. Master agreed with the idea and made the horns, which so perfectly complement the Slavani face, a permanent addition.

Ha. Another joke. Amidst a list of comparatively unremarkable events, casually inserting organized ethnic cleansing into the mix is quite humorous, is it not? Black humor, while hard to achieve for the non-comedically inclined, returns a high number of laughs for very little word count.

Things were going well in the war, until, of course, they weren’t.

Master on the Backfoot

The otherworldly, dark creatures that were mentioned before. The ones from whom Master stole secrets from to create Her perfect race. The price for Her theft had finally come to pass, and they all coordinated to take Master down on the eve of Her greatest triumph.

On the Throne World (what the planet of Master’s birth is now called) there was a city. An ancient, destroyed city, with buildings that rose higher than a hundred Masters stacked on top of each other, and with technology that would not be seen until thousands of years later. This city, to the local humans, was known as ‘the dark continent’, and it was an evil, terrible place. Even Master shunned its cursed streets in Her early campaigns. When it was finally time to conquer this land, most of the human kingdoms laid in ruins. Their armies destroyed, their will to fight gone, their farmlands burned. With the human campaign effectively over, Master took up Her sword and personally led Her vast, million-Soldier army into the dark continent.

Master had three goals for the conquest. Destroy every trace of monster that lurked deep in the city, preventing them from every threatening the world again. Pillage the ancient libraries for any scrap of technology she could salvage. Repair the sprawling metropolis and turn it into the capital city for her Slavani.

This is where the Slavani got their wings. A brilliant design, Slavani wings are made of magic and hover inches off the lower back. They can fold up neatly and be under clothes, and because they are aethereal projections, they can even pass through walls and debris when necessary. It allowed Her vast army to be carried by the winds that pass between the tall buildings of the dark continent, letting Her soldier be far more mobile in fights against the monsters and mutants. With this final upgrade, the true Slavani form was completed.

When Master led Her army into the dark continent, the old, forgotten, replaced gods made their move.

A two-pronged assault. Some gods empowered the mutants and beasts in the dark continent, while the strongest one, the one whom Master stole the secrets of life in the first place, bestowed its curse upon the dead human kingdoms. Cursed beings, humans they called ‘heroes’, rose up and drove back Master’s armies. They used their curse to repair the farms, steal the converted humans away from Master’s embrace, and they even turned natural-spawned Slavani into humans, the horror. Worst of all, these cursed humans believed they were in the right to do so, they couldn’t understand that all Slavani follow Master’s will as a matter of loyalty and love, not coercion.

But Master knew not of this incursion, She was too busy dealing with setback after setback in the dark continent, cut off from the rest of Her domain.

The den sent word to Master via couriers, the first letters ever sent to Master.

It would be months, maybe years before Master could march back and utterly destroy the cursed humans. But would the humans succeed in destroying the den? Would Master return home to find Her life’s work destroyed? The dark gods knew well of Master’s power and were right to fear it. Their goal was to destroy Master’s home base, the den, and deprive Her of the resources and population She would need to overcome this foe. If Her base of operations was cut off, Master would slowly be worn down by a war of attrition, and the dark gods would achieve victory.

So, was Master’s den destroyed in Her absence?

No! This was the time of Slavani heroes, and those ancient sisters rallied to the defense of everything Master had built. Her dreams, Her plans, Her family, the memories She made with the first batch, the schools where She taught the Casters, the training yard where She drilled the Soldiers, the fields where She granted the Workers the gift of agriculture. All of these things rested on the back of the Slavani defenders, and they took to the humans with a vicious hunger for Master’s praise and gratitude.

The humans nearly drowned in an endless wave of bodies. The Assassins wreaked havoc behind enemy lines. Never before have more relic swords and armor been forged by the Workers in such a short period of time. Ship after ship was sunk under the tide of Seavani, the fish were all driven off the coasts of human shores. The Caster tapped into the lingering regrets of Slavani deprived the chance of helping Master in Her time of need, and learned how to directly reincarnate Slavani, thus ensuring the Soldiers could get back into the fight immediately after death.

With the best effort the Slavani could possibly muster, the humans were delayed for long enough that Master was able to return, Her den still intact.

Master led Her armies with a wrathful efficiency never before seen. No quarter was given, no hostages taken, She would not allow for surrender. The humans were defeated time after time, Master’s divine powers canceling out their curse-borne ones. Each Slavani who had been stolen by the human ‘heroes’ were found and returned to the light. Master would not allow Herself to repeat the tragedy of the 500, and every last child was saved.

Each ‘hero’ that stepped before Her was destroyed without question. They may have tried to get a few hits in and whittle Master down, but Master would not allow Herself to feel pain or slow even slightly. She reconquered land after land, burning the human villages in a scorched-earth tactic, and rearranging their castles in grand monuments which mocked the human’s old, replaced, dark gods.

But when it seemed like victory was assured, the mutants in the dark continent began to stir.

End of the World

A great migration of evil spread out from that ancient city, Master’s inability to conquer it quickly cost Her the world. The combined assault of these two forces was too much, and Master would never again be on the offensive. All Her armies could do was delay the inevitable.

It was an impossible situation. If Master stayed and conquered the dark continent, the den would have been destroyed. If Master returned as She did, the mutants would have been spurred into action and resulted in the inevitable defeat that ended up occurring.

The blame lies with the Slavani. If they were smarter, or stronger, or could cast better spells, or made better equipment, they could have rolled over the mutants and the humans. Master’s plans were perfect, it was Her daughters who failed to carry them through.

Master knew the war was lost, but it’s a testament to Her intellect that She still had a plan.

With the time bought from Her delaying actions, Master worked on two projects. The first, She freely told Her daughters. She’d cast a massive spell to make the ancient gods think they’ve won, but in reality, the den, and all those inside, would be safe and sound. They’d lay low for a few decades, then emerge once more after the ancient gods turned their attention elsewhere. From there’d try again and conquer the planet.

Her second plan… was to craft a replacement body for Herself. She told nobody, but the ancient gods were after Her for Her theft, they would leave Her children alone. Master’s true plan was to sacrifice Herself, satiate the dark gods, and use the grand spell to fool the remaining humans that the threat was gone. She would die, for us.

Even as an emotionless Drone with no sense of self, one cannot help but shed a tear when faced with Master’s sacrifice.

Master kept this a secret from all, even Her closest advisers and Her pet ‘regent’. She bore the brunt of Her choice alone for years. So many sleepless nights split between coordinating Her army, working on the spell, and crafting a body able to house Her soul after death.

Finally, the armies of darkness were at the outer fortification of the den, mutant and human working side by side to destroy their only chance at salvation. Each layer of defense fell one by one before the impossible onslaught, until all that was left between them and the den was a single door made of purified ironwood.

Master stood before it, Her staff in one hand and Her mace in the other, with the last of Soldiers at Her back, and all the Casters capable of supporting the army.

“Master.” Forutova the Black, one of Her most trusted lieutenants and veteran of a hundred battles, asked. “When shall we activate the spell?”

Master didn’t respond. She only turned to the arrayed army with a pained smile.

“M-Master?” Devinira the ‘Nightmare of the Helm’ knew something was wrong, Her voice broke. “If a battle is needed to complete the illusion, please, stay back! We’ll be more than enough to make it convincing.”

Master looked over the sea of anxious faces that belonged to Her children, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Panic spread through the ranks, something was wrong, they all knew it. “What’s the plan, Master! Give us an order! What do we need to do?” Cyclops the Dual-Eyed cried out.

“You’ve all done more than should have been asked of you.” Master’s voice was calm, smooth, relaxing. Her tone betrayed the apocalypse smashing against their door. “Never believe that your efforts were in vain, or that you weren’t good enough.”

Emotion welled within the hearts of each Slavani, and all began to cry. Not just those present, but all the Slavani left alive, even those Seavani who were denied their place in the final battle. Each was left with an overwhelming sense of dread and doom.

“I’ll be leaving you now. I don’t know for how long, but one day I shall return and deliver unto you the paradise I promised.”

“Master!” Avina the Ebon Staff screamed.

“What do you mean?!” Hotuba the Gaunt’s proud voice began to choke up.

“Please don’t go! O-or take us with you!” Bedina the Swiftsword desperately wiped the tears from Her eyes as she knew this would be the last time she saw Master alive.

Each Slavani thought to rush Master at once, to bring Her into the den so that She may live.

“Stop.” A single calm word, barely audible over the sounds of tears and battle, and each sister stopped.

“Sit.” Each Slavani was all too happy to comply, finding comfort in Master’s order.

No matter the distance, Master’s final words were heard by all Slavani, not even the bounds of mortality kept Her perished children from Her words. “I’m proud of you all, each and every one. Rest assured that I remember all of your names and deeds, not a single one of you has been beneath my notice. Though your faces may seem similar to outsiders, though they may think you clones or copies, the distinct beauty of each is as apparent to me as a great bonfire in the dead of night. I have prepared a vessel so I may return, it’s gestating in the depths of my laboratory. I… won’t be me, when I return. As I have shaped each of you, so too have you shaped me. Your faith will change me, after I pass, but so long as you never forget that I love each of you, I will always protect you from beyond the realm of this life.”

Her daughters tried their best to stifle their tears, and the doors began to crack under the weight of so much evil.

“Goodbye, Slavani, my crowning achievement.”

With a determined smile and a flip of Her cape, Master opened the doors to meet Her foes. A moment later, the doors closed, and the entire den erupted in a brilliant golden light.

The spell worked.

The den was gone. Teleported far away while Master made Her last stand against the unholy alliance of human and mutant.

All knew what Master did for them. As such, it was only right for all to pray for their Master. All Slavani, all strains, all individuals, they all got to their knees and prayed for the same thing.

For Master to achieve the domain She so richly deserves.

So many Slavani prayed so fervently for an identical dream. Master fought, and fought, and fought, ensuring to destroy the so-called ‘heroes’ who were tricked into ruining Her plans. None but Master knows the specifics of Her final battle, but years later, Assassin scouts would find the site where it took place. It was nothing but a scar upon the face of the planet. A graveyard of bone and rock.

Nothing would ever grow there again.

When Master’s end finally came, all the hopes and wishes of the Slavani people flowed into their Master, and She finally ascended to Godhood! A radiant golden Goddess who could drive back the darkness, the true Master of the Slavani and everything She saw!

While Her death shook the hearts of the Slavani, those who remained felt a renewed sense of purpose. Master would return one day, that much was certain, so it was up to the Slavani to protect Master’s developing body and keep the den in top shape.

Master’s new body was found in a secret chamber in Her laboratory, a tube of pale orange goo with a single cell floating in the center. The tube was taken to the center of the den, and it would become the center of worship for the next 700 years as it slowly developed.

Through the tube, the young Master was read books to every day. Every meal was ate around Her. Slavani slept by the tube every night. It was common practice for Slavani to make a pilgrimage to the baby at least once a year.

But with that, the tale of Master’s first incarnation is complete. Her birth, Her rise, Her fall, and the endless support to and from Her creations.

It is fortunate that that Caster recommended this book, even if it was done in jest. Perhaps the book of Master’s second incarnation will be acquired next, and that will be the contents of next year’s letter.

Signed

– Drone C-17 of Spawn Pit Utoko on Crown World Y’Varda