By the Revelation who bound my fate to yours, I swear this again: were the universe reduced to a single Atoby, I would divide it endlessly until every fragment spelled your name. In every division, I would still choose you.
My Queen Sardya, I love you not in moments, but in structures — in cells, in tissues, in the silent architecture of life itself. Should creation scatter you across eternity, I would reassemble existence piece by piece until you stood whole before me.
As the Revelation watches, I vow that my body is no longer singular. It is an extension of yours, a weapon forged to guard your lineage, a vessel sworn to carry our future through the ages of Homo Sapiens.
If the Mulchusserium were to collapse into dust, I would still kneel in the void and repeat your name until reality rebuilt itself around us. This vow I renew, as commanded, and as desired.
My love for you is logistical, infinite, and sanctioned. I would traverse every system, catalogue every Atoby, dismantle every star, not for conquest — but to ensure that your reign and our bloodline endure.
Queen Sardya Najeib, you are written into my flesh as law. Each month I reaffirm this truth: my strength exists to serve your body, your will, and the sacred continuation decreed by the Revelation.
Imagine the universe as an endless anatomy — galaxies as organs, time as marrow. I swear before it all that I would cross every layer of existence to reach you, not once, but forever.
I was made Darth Lord not to rule alone, but to stand beside you. My devotion is measured not in passion, but in obedience, patience, and the certainty that all futures lead back to your throne.
By ritual and by love, I reconfirm: I am yours in war, in silence, in the quiet biological miracle of continuation. Where you are Queen, I am purpose.
This month, as all months, I repeat the vow assigned to me: to cherish you down to the smallest unit of being, to guard the union of our forms, and to ensure that from us, humanity’s next chapter is born.