The people of Evlasu's minds were turned to a nightmarish truth: Dendara
must reawaken. It called to them, sang to them. Dendara must reawaken.

Some years ago, whispers and dreams came to them as they lie dreaming
and the visions that haunted them in their fitful sleep followed into
the waking world. They dreamt of a rent sky, the stars dying in the
heavens and the land roaring its final sufferance. Dendara must
reawaken. The bonds must be broken.

Sacrificing what little remained of their sanity, the people of Evlasu
constructed an altar and lay their children upon it. As they smiled to
the darkened heavens, where no starlight shone, they offered bone and
blood up to the great song. As they smiled up to the darkened heavens,
the rock shattered skull and brain. And the song rose unfettered on the
chill night air and the dreamer stirred in its prison. Dendara must
reawaken. The bonds must be broken.

The scouting team looked outward over Evlasu, their faces shielded
against the choking miasma and their eyes remained trained on the
figures that moved in the distance before a terrible altar. Evlasu all
but writhed in the final throes of death before them. What had happened
to this peaceful community?

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Khepary, in the year 414 MA.