For many years, centuries of real time, I was able to live with myself. One day another new Theotokos was emplaced and I saw the cherubic face of She Who Sleeps. I remembered who we had been, what I was, and I realised I had to now become something else. I took up common garb and fled from the light of Ban, vowing I would now only speak the truth.
Or as much of it as I could bear to say aloud.