Per 
Karcist Halyna Ieva, who was only Layla Helen Pirani when she felt like it, was curious. It was them. They had sent her a letter.
How many centuries had it been? How many wars, how many awakenings? Were they once her comrades? Leaders, perhaps? Servants? Did it matter?
"Is something wrong, mistress?" asked a young initiate, disturbing her from her throughts. Seeing the Karcist wave him off, he bowed his head in obeisance and shuffled out of the room quietly. Once the servant had closed the door behind him, she crushed the scroll case in a tentacle, wincing slightly as shards and barbs stabbed through the appendage.
No matter. It would be replaced if need be.
They had never truly agreed with her practice, she recalled. They accused her of betraying their origins, that she was just as bad as their Daevic overlords with her enslavement of others. What nonsense. But Orok knew. Orok knew that all was fair game. As did the Grand Karcist himself.
Unfurling the bloody tentacle, she picked up the torn parchment, a smile forming at the simple word scrawled on it.
Oh, how she loved beginnings.
