[prologue]

        PROLOGUE

 

   "You are nothing, a slave, a tool for my conditioning. When you die, you will not be missed...

    "Your 'soulmate' has abandoned you for mere pleasures, gold and silver baubles. Left you to your death for another who is more 'charming', after leading you on to believe she could ever love you. Even now, you still believe that she cherishes you, at the very worse like a confused child who needed someone to hold who could carry her through the storms to come. If you only knew how she laughs at you, and how, with the two of you, you could of defeated me, and the Seven Chosen, but how she chose otherwise. Is that not the cruelest puzzle of all? How something which is undoubtably half of you be so evil?"

The ashes grew to a hot ember, flaking the sides of the Chamanti Pit reminding the runes where they were. A slow encircling chant wrapped itself about the black flame lifting him into the Dhi Circkh. He let out a low muffled gasp of pain as the smell of burnt flesh filled the chamber.

   "How your very own brother, turned against you. While you slept, he commandeered with the enemy over wine, setting up your very defeat. Causing them to strike against you at your most hour of need. He needed not lift a finger with his careful years, yes, years of planning.  And then reducing her to a mere expensive charlotten w***e.  They all shared her, you know.  'Your blood must flow like wine', he said to me.  'It is for the power!  THE POWER!!'."

   His feet started to bubble causing the hissing to grow louder. Skin melted like churned butter under the onslot releasing itself from its bone.  Seven Hooded figures stood above with eyes of a glowing perversive green.  Cloaks black against the starless night sky.  Skin fell and was reduced to ash before hitting bottom.  Teeth clenched under the onslaught, and yet, he did not scream.

   "How very brave you are now.  To die like a cow on spit-fire.  Did I speak of Senon, your birth friend, who turned away, hand in hand, with simple quick words from another, on the offering of solstice with the joining of armies.  But his mind was already made up, wasn't it?  Long before the conquests were in your heart, they were in his.  For you.  Would it be known that he incouraged you to your doom.  He was the best man for the, 'job'.  Yes, he knew.  'A soul power of this nature must not be contained', he said it as it was with a smile."

   The chanting rose high beyond into the night sky releasing an aging green hue, which held itself, corroding the already dead air with something that went beyond visual eyes and crude smell.  Something which touched the very fabric of earth, changing it with a macabre of lines holding silk laced colorful poison.  The last of his blood pulsed black.  The cursed flame ripped upward with an unnatural scream tearing out his right eye and exposing his ribs.

   "And Gareth told to Timon, as friends and enemies often do, that you were weak.  An ill favored time to strike, taking you from your seat of power, to be held like a fixated statue until you could be seen before all who addressed them in silent tongue, that you were not to be spoken of, unless through them.  'For is it not fear that rules the silence'  whispered he.  The Road of the High Priest spoke of you, through the General's eyes, a laughing mockery of times to come.  These two who it would be said, 'Man at Arms'  and 'Man of God'.  Yes, the very foundation of what you swore to protect.  The cancerous growth had already found another home to turn.  And now, poor child, you stand scaythed about before me, with the last of ruins querry upon your face, a withered reminder of who you were, soul power gone and dreams tainted.  Did you not believe of Muhn and the energy for which you held?  But now, even your High Priestess is lost in your weakness.  Drawn from an unholy Krin the crystals are held with childrens' blood, forever changed.  Rhune Stones broken and cast into Forn Abyss, how easy it will be to convince her of your treachery.  Even now she feeds on your blood with the Blessing of the Light.  Disguised as cow's milk it went down her throat weakening her hold on the Chihvahn.  Yes, even she cannot help your plight.  Blind forever, never to see again with the purity she once had, it need not be to loathe her evermore.  Your falseness has proven worthy indeed."

   The chant grew louder lifting him higher, tightening the grip upon his shredded body.  Three of the Seven stepped back and lifted their hands to the sky.  The arm shawls of the robes slid back revealing the marks of their order, glowing a sickly morph yellow.

   "Yes, at the brink of eternity's void you still cannot believe how it was forseen and envisioned for this impetuous moment.  Since before your birth, before your bloodstone, a long death of careful configuration.  The circles of the Sun hold you, feeding your hollow destiny.  Foolish child.  Am I wise.  Am I not right.  Was it not I who foretold these short commings?  Was it not I who cradled your doubts and created your fears?  Was it not I who warned you that your demise might come to pass?  A cleverer deed could not be thought. And now, it is I who stands before you.  The nurturer of poison.  A voice of lies eternal, and the Oracle of your creation.  I hold you true, your innocence is pure. Die eternal, coward of life, as does all good food for the hungry child."

   Words in hand, steps beyond times door, a voice echoed it's whisper on the dying man's last breath,

   "Tahlo."

   And with that, he crumbled into the fire, as ash beget ash, fire beget fire, releasing the last hold in a thundering embrace of evil.