Ezekiel Graves, the Harbinger of divine judgment, the self-proclaimed purifier of sin. You stand there, a towering figure, draped in righteousness, preaching your gospel of retribution. But let me tell you a tale, Reverend, a parable you may find unsettlingly familiar. After all, it’s about men like you—shepherds who think they control the fire but always end up consumed by it.

Once, there was a shepherd who lived on the edge of a great forest. His flock was his pride, his purpose. He saw himself as their protector, their guide, their savior. But the forest was wild and untamed, filled with beasts and shadows that threatened his sheep at every turn. The shepherd, righteous and zealous, believed he had been chosen by a higher power to tame the wild and keep his flock safe.

One day, the shepherd discovered a spark—a single, flickering flame deep in the woods. It was small, insignificant at first, but it burned with a strange, alluring power. The shepherd believed it to be a gift from the heavens, a tool to purge the darkness and rid the forest of its dangers. He took the flame in his hands, holding it high as he strode into the wilderness, shouting his divine mission to all who would hear.

But the flame, wild and untethered, had no master. The more the shepherd wielded it, the larger it grew, consuming everything in its path. The beasts fled, the shadows twisted, and the forest burned. The shepherd, consumed by his mission, refused to see the destruction he caused.

“Behold the power of righteousness!” he cried, even as the fire spread to his flock. His sheep, trusting him blindly, followed him into the inferno. One by one, they fell, consumed by the very flame he had brought to protect them.

And when the fire reached him, the shepherd stood alone, his flock gone, the forest ash. The flame, now untamed, turned on him, devouring him as it had everything else.

Do you see the truth, Ezekiel? You call yourself the Harbinger, the vessel of judgment, but you are no shepherd—you’re a fool clutching at a wildfire. You wield righteousness like a weapon, but it will burn you as it burns everything around you. Your flock will scatter, your mission will crumble, and when you stand in the ashes of your own making, you will see that the flame was never yours to control.

And when that moment comes, Reverend, I will be there—not as a savior, but as the devil you never truly believed in. After all, you don’t tame the fire, Ezekiel. The fire always consumes.