Here (where you find yourself now) is a place further down the page than when last you read. In between here and there, an empire arose, and, like a wave, crashed back down to meet the dark below. There is no more incentive than to survive. Survive, keeping that last ember fed, in the hope that it can survive the extinguishing darkness. That is truly what you face now. Elimination of all light by the howling dark. They will come. In the future, they will come. As legion, as fury. Jealousy and spite are there watchwords, and they are the snuff and the gale that hound the last previous flame which we huddle around in the miasma-dark. [b]That[/b] is your motive, guardian. [b]That[/b] is your only "why". Forget the might that was, because you and your fellows are all that remain of it. Fight, fight against the dying of the light.