"My power presides over the city, those who bend to my will are blessed by the gods. Those who do not are hounded by a dark fate until the day they repent. This city's destiny rides upon my shoulders; if my prayers reach the gods our harvest will be good, my people will prosper and we will once again defeat our enemies to the east. My poor people, in this crystal city, if you only knew the truth. I am just a front, a shield behind which the true intentions of men hide. The gods abandoned us long ago...our city will fall." An excerpt from a short fantasy story I'm writing based on the last days of a mythical city as seen through the eyes of the High Priestess Riara (as seen in the picture above). My scanner is a crotchity old beast so she looks nowhere near as good as she does in the original. Alas.