[ Their eyes grow dim. Their Site wains. But the birds of the Morrígan's ears remain sharp and they taste the ibis' words on the wind. The littlest sister, whose name is still fresh with newly laid ink, hears and knows and writes again. ]
scribe of ma'at in the company of gods lord of divine words judge of the rekhekhui heart and tongue of ra three times great
these names are yours and in names are power and with these names and this power we thank you
the balance kept the words written the black wing bless you cousin ibis
know:
of those who would look to burn us in our beds a defector will rise trust him trust him
no subject