The past defies attempts to change
He hated the Daedra. With every single cell of his Chimer body, he swore to his dying sister that he would destroy the Daedra, those false gods, devils and demons, naught but a curse upon Nirn. And by the Nine Divines so help him, they all would realize their hubris, and the last they would see would be the snarling visage of a rage-stricken Chimer mage.
The future defies attempts to predict
He had complicated algorithms. Powerful magic. Vast knowledge. And friendship with the Dwemer scholars and mages. He always found them somewhat unsettling, but to keep them as allies was better than to have the formidable Dwemer as enemies like the dark days. Yet he could always feel like one variable would always be unaccounted for....
The present defies attempts to know
One day, he'd had a vision. Of a hell blasted Resdayn, of an Almalexia driven mad with rage and power, of a great beating heart of a dying god, guarded as viciously as a dragon by the mutilated corpse of his friend and mentor, now unrecognizable but for the bright golden visage. Of Nerevar laying in a pool of his blood, with three shrouded figures standing over him, holding three Dwemer artifacts..
It unsettled him. Everything did. But when one experienced so much grief, would you slowly begin to lose sight of it all? Would you not begin to do naught in your power but to experience a moment of contentment? Begin to see all as no more than equations in the grand desire to destroy the Padomaic forces, uniting them with Anu.
Unity for one and all. Order. Logic. Clockwork. Reason.
Relief.
And so, Sotha Sil drafted up the plans, to tell the remaining two of the Tribunal of Advisors to the Hortator, what must be done. What sacrifices to be made.
Sotha Sil stood up, rolled up his paper, allowed himself to shed a tear. One for the grief of the past. Another, for the fruitlessness of the future. And a final one for the inescapability of the present.
The beginning of the words is ALMSIVI
