[ She nodded, a touch of her head, at his observation. It is not, of course, simply power. No, it is the pattern of the world, of history, that bows its head in recognition of a reality that has come to past, of the path set, repetition that created a reality in which Power is granted for action. The Tyrant is a Name as is the Witch of the Woods, each and every one unique, a tale that has repeated itself -- or will repeat itself -- with time.

There had never before been a Calamity, and nor had there ever been a Warden. Before Providence -- the Intercessor as she had been previously called -- had found a twisted reflection, she had been the first, so long ago, that even the Miezans had not yet walked the land. Stories had to start somewhere, did they not? ]

Correct. [ She said, her golden eyes alight with knowing. ] And I, by Name of Calamity, intercede on behalf of the hands that claw from Below. I guide those on the path of Evil. Both toward their goals, and from the precipice that would have led to disaster.

[ Should have, her having just ascended to this Name, but the specifics are... of no matter to this man. ]