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<span class="mu-i">It went on like that for some time. If it was a conversation at all, in that black tongue, it had the tone of argument to it. I barely heard anything else, especially from the new daemonic arrival, but I remember the parting words of the first Dread Lord with crystal clarity.
I could not see him, but I knew it to be the voice of my would-be killer, the murdered of my brothers and sisters. In his utterance, I could feel such endless malice that would wish the end of our race entire. Perhaps all races.</span>
<span class="mu-s">The Benefactor Has His Designs For This World. We Have Ours.
We Shall Make Of This Plane, A Garden.</span>
<span class="mu-i">That is all I can remember, that last terrible declaration. I think I stayed awake the entire night, listening to the departing flap of wings and the shuffle of hundreds of feet. I would have wept, I -should- have wept. The tears would not come.</span>
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