The realm of Basedlord has remained tranquil for as long as the says have undulated a radiant blue. From the small hill a gentle breeze waves through the grass, ever so slightly rocking them back and forth. The grass is a calming cool as you rest your head down in natures organic pillow. The prophecy was realized and you completed your task, you put down the uprising rebellion, you did what could only be done in the most ancient of manuscripts. You close your eyes, drifting off to sleep when you are suddenly woken up by a single water droplet. It hits your eyelid and jolts you awake. You look at the treeline and notice a harsh swaying among the branches. The grass shakes as if there was an earthquake. You look up to the grayish-black atmosphere and see the clouds take form in the shape of some text. You shield your eyes, bracing the winds that dry out your eyes, ignoring the drops of water falling faster and faster. You squint and whisper aloud what the small words say, “Epstein didn’t kill himself.”