Bang.
No, not there, killer, not the other place, not where you are dead and not where he is dead
The other one is dead here you are alive
Look into my eyes killer
Look at the Nightblade that weapon that you bear that you become that I have already become
The weapon raised by L'etas Daraghul Sidhei first raiser of the dead ones that walk and kill
You have not even seen it raised by the witch-woman of the Mistwood Raven-Sung
Sorceress of the Black Temple of Enlod and the Black Temple of Zraath
Grandmother Fae you will see her raise it as I have seen her raise it in times long called ancient
Look not to the tall and golden-haired giant blood of the mountain and the Isle
I see that one too I see him now I did not see him then no not among the mountains not among the fires falling from the heavens
Falling from the heavens to make explosions explosions of deadly starshards that rend and kill
He laid a trap for me he did the great killer conqueror of cities burner of lies that were the work of centuries
But I laid a trap for him
The Masked One the Hand of Death laid a trap for him
Greatest of the killers of all the lands new and ancient
Yes
Look into my eyes killer I will show you many things
Yes
Bang.
He thinks he sees us now
Sees us in my Nightblade the weapon which you bear and he bears
First Bearer of the Nightblade exiled and ancient King of an exiled and ancient people
What does your one eye see first servant of the Great Dark One-Eyed One
No you do not see the Masked One nor the one bound to him
Bound by the blood of Kellan
The hidden one who waits and strikes and strikes again
Call me by my name killer
Call me by my name and hand her my Nightblade
“Keltas Dla'kuul.”
The shadow beyond blackness called L'etas Daraghul Sidhei has a voice of darkiron, and the crown upon his head glows dark, darker than the dark before dawn.
The darkness that shines forth from them grows too, grows darker as they are given their first names.
Masked One. Hand of Death.
First names given to the Nightblade by the King of the Remnant, the Once-Lords, the Devoured, the Exiled, the Ebonchildren, the Neth Al'afara.
Ancient killers of men and monsters and daimons and elves, and each other.
First raisers of the dead ones who walk and kill raised by my Nightblade deep beneath the earth
Keltas Dla'kuul you have heard it now in two tongues
Masked One Hand of Death
Witness us we are triumphant
Triumphant and he knows it not yet
Bang.
Witness killer
Witness as I hold the blade to his neck
Ancient and exiled King of an ancient and exiled people
When I laid the blade to his neck he was already once exiled
Old one-eyed one, first servant of the Great Dark One-Eyed One of the Thousand Names
Ancient already then already now now the twice exiled
Witness the blade which I did bring to your city the rich city of Oligarch
Oligarch of the high and mighty walls withstander of many besiegings
Ancient Oligarch ancient before the Elflands had their pretty names Anarionath and Sirion
When they were known by darker and more ancient names
Anarionarch and Oslirion twice home of the Neth Al'afara
The blade that did slay the famous dead one in the city of Aix that sprang from the forest of Athla Aix
The blade slick with his blood the blood of a brother yet unborn
The blade slick with the blood of a brother born to die by his brother's hand
The Hand of Death the Masked One greatest killer of them all
Witness now killer
Witness us as she calls us by our name our true name
“Kilhorn,” Fae declares, commands, summons them, and they are there.
Bang.
“Kilhorn, Blade of the Night.”
The Nightblade...
Kilhorn's hiss is long, and his dead brother's blood, the one yet to be born in this moment ancient and evil, hisses too as he presses the longknife to L'etas Daraghul Sidhei's neck.
Hand her
my Nightblade...
And he does.
She presses it close to her body as she begins a new chant, and the shadows behind the shadows, the nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine diabhalin, add their voices to hers, and the darkness grows until it is blinding...
But not as bright as the fire which rains from above, that fire that is the fruit of the work of a lifetime.
Bang.
