The Matar demand everything of us, It is the way.
The dancing scarecrow took everything through trial and ink, and the Matar discarded this worthless being.
Long live the Matar.

On home desert, Vherokior gave me their embrace. With endless family, from mother, to aunt, to cousin, to brother, all gave me warmth. When my soul was found tainted, they sent me to the stars. Though I was to be silenced, instead the gift they gave was beyond compare, They were right However. Even bearing the ink and spirit of father and forefather it was never meant that I should be Min. Long live the Matar.