The words of Eldrad

Since the time of the Fall, our race has been haunted by what we, in our reckless pursuit of hedonistic indulgence, gave birth to. Though our dreams once overturned worlds and quenched suns, we are now but fitful shadows clinging to the edge of existence. All the stars in the sky cannot blot out the hateful glare of the red Moon's Eye. The birthing place of The Great Enemy pulses with all the malice of a daemon that is dreaming, casting its shadow over all we have ever done and all we ever shall. Every twisted strand of Fate and casting of the Runes leads me to this time, to this place, and it is clear that the final battle awaits me at the ancient Crone Worlds. A Conflict the likes of which has no been seen since the Mon-Keigh warred amongst themselves, and their corpse of a seer fell to his traitorous son, is coming and all my steps lead toward it, no matter that i walk other paths. I see the stars stained red with the blood of the Mon-Keigh, and though their wars do not concern me and i would gladly let them destroy one another, I know that to avoid this fight is to condemn my race to inevitable doom. And though all i see is darkness, I know that i will not flinch from my destiny.