>>5356992Paeris, Epharidan, and the third elf who perished in the attack on the Blackmantle Corporation fort. Then, flickering into being come a dozen, and hundred more: the dark stars of souls through the ages which have risen to join the Dark God of Glory in his realm, past and perhaps future! You see a legion march towards the base of that pyramid, to enter and make their ascent to its divine pinnacle: Reptilians of the Master Race, but also kobolds, and drow, and dwarves.
And there is more, at least for you. You see a vision of a great serpent, two-headed and with chitinous armour, and a smaller and single-headed version of the same sort of creature encircled in its—in HER—embrace. At the centre of both of them, a small clutch of eggs, and you feel your heart pulled towards them—your children! And attending them… A small army of scurrying kobolds, and elves in the particular dress of Glowie’s maid-attendants.
Above them all, you see the stretching tentacles and all-seeing, sun-like eye of the Baleful Beholder surveying the scene approvingly… And beneath it all, Death, waiting passive and indiscriminate, like book-ends to a great work, a Grand Design. Perhaps… perhaps there IS such a thing? Perhaps you are making it even now?
Only the Judge-Executioner, he called Lord of Law, is absent, and this absence… It troubles you, though you wonder if any of the others even notice.
The flames die away to a rain of ash which falls upon you all, like a fiery baptism, or like mana from heaven. The candle burns down to nothing in an instant, leaving only a black spot on the floor to mark this occasion. You wipe the ash from your face, and look around, to see the reaction of those called upon to witness this spectacle—this miracle.
>19The elves are quiet, chattering and mockery ceased, not even passing hushed whispers any longer. Karz has fallen to his knees, as has Agno, joining your own race in ululations of praise and celebration. Davora does not kneel, but she still stares at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. She rubs the ash from them with a sleeve, and looks to you, the disappointment and shame which had lately filled them replaced with a renewed wonderment—as when she first saw you transform into your Dragonshape.
In the end, even the elves—even Davora—join you in a prayer to the Dark Gods, and Karz and Olu accompany you with what music they can muster—a music carrying the passion of the devout.
