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Some see our tombs as the memory of the ever-wandering sands, a mark of mind in the open wastes. For some, they are symbols of aspiration to a glorious past, that even here may legends be born. For others, icons of hubris and little more, that anywhere pride will tower above reason.

I prefer they be a warning that what lies beneath deserved a prison of stone, even when our brutal lives fade beyond recall. Leave us to our cursed quiet, and in our crypts we will remain.

But if you, convinced of your infallibility, break open our vaults to take what was left in our everlasting grip…

dust will be your only remembrance.

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