The Incubation Chamber inevitably fell silent again. Gawain sat in his high-backed chair with a grave expression, lost in prolonged thought. The faint hum of the ventilation system seemed to come from far away. The slightly cool breeze dispelled the heat of the summer afternoon, but it could not dispel the pressure and shadow cast by the truth of the world. He did not know how long he remained deep in thought before Enya's voice came from beside him:
"It was precisely because the natural laws of this world had been so cruel from the very beginning that seeking shelter from the gods became the path all mortals ultimately had no choice but to take... Yet even the gods' protection was merely part of those cruel rules. That was where the weakness of living beings lay before the great power of nature—they could only choose to face a bleak future, or drink a vial of poison that let them lose themselves in dreams.
"I have witnessed many glorious civilizations. They too had diligently pursued truth, or bravely faced their gods. Many great individuals among them made wise decisions, allowing their people to flourish until they could reach the sky itself, even come and knock upon Tarlonnd's gates. And the most outstanding among them eventually learned the truth.
"Regrettably, I watched them tremble before the truth. Some lowered their heads and returned to the embrace of the gods, clipping their own wings and hoping to remain sheltered on this planet forever... No race dared risk losing that protection to knock upon the gates of the universe. Not one."
Gawain stared at the runes drifting across Enya's Eggshell. "Now, we hold dominion over the Loren Continent. Those civilizations that once shone in history have left behind almost no trace. The facts proved