It has been 2495 years since the great Exodus.
Humanity scrabbled in the soil of Earth til their fingers bled and their nails peeled away. They beat at the stone til their hands bruised and their knuckled broke. When their hands were nothing but bleeding stubbed wrists, they uncovered the only thing worth such a sacrifice – God’s Heart.
In the true spirit of the Chosen, they turned their gaze to the burning edge of the galaxy, and they began to walk. They would walk until their feet were as bloodied and worn away as their hands, and their eyes were burnt out from searching for the stars because then, and only then, would they find God.
But what of those left behind? They wait, patiently, for the return of the Crusaders. They live their lives in a manner befitting the true servants of God. They battle the heretical defectors, protect the souls of the next generation, and preserve the mould of humanity throughout the generations, no matter the cost.
They are the Stewards of the Universe.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
The Heart Of God