FR April 2012

The Exodus burst into the planes of realspace, her articulated wingtips glowing with transdimensional energies, over the cerulean skies of Generis. The world was as beautiful as Solomon remembered, a lush dome of sapphire oceans and emerald mountains. It had once been the site of his redemption. Now, assuming Loklorien received his message, assuming she was in a fit state of mind to act on it, it would either be once more a place of redemption or else, if the worst was true, a place of reckoning.

"Lok," he'd said, "I pray this message finds you well. I have sensed a great disturbance in the Force, a disturbance that surrounds you like a disease. It troubles me greatly, and I fear for your soul. If our friendship ever meant anything to you at all, meet me on Generis at the following coordinates. I will wait there seven days for you. Know, Lok, that you are prayed for, and you are loved. May God go with you on whatever path you tread."

The Exodus bloomed with cleansing fire as she streaked through Generis's upper atmosphere toward the mountains of the northern continent, the resting place for the Cathedral of Stars. There was nothing Solomon could do now but wait. s'Il's fate was in God's hands.