![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
It comes, the call, when he is engrossed in thoughts of Uathach, the unnatural white urgach lately given command of Maugrim's army, at least the portion at Valgrind Bridge.
The one thing he is not thinking of, here or ever, in truth, are the Paraiko, caged, pinned, and dying by a plan of his own devising. Smoked and starved to their deaths, the Paraiko have been, so that their curse may not fall on any who shed their blood.
Galadan has ever been the cleverest mind in Fionavar, and not all the Paraiko's strange (unsettling) grace could stand against him. Even now the last few are lingering on the threshold of that final descent into the dark.
He had expected that would make him feel satisfied. It does not.
Odd.
The only thing that has ever come close to giving him satisfaction, to granting him peace (aside from that window, outside of which lay his dream made real and almost tangible), had been learning the true fate of Amairgen Whitebranch. Amairgen, the man Lisen, beloved Lisen, had died for. Had spurned Galadan for.
It is that choice of hers that had driven Galadan to his own, so very, very long ago--and he had chosen the Dark, and service to Maugrim in pursuit of his own goal.
Annihilation.
But now there is a stirring in Lisen's Tower, in Pendaran Wood. Someone is there, someone who should not be there. He does not know who, not yet, but--no intrusion is permitted. Not in her place.
He will not allow it. Someone will be made to pay.
And the price will be very dear.
The one thing he is not thinking of, here or ever, in truth, are the Paraiko, caged, pinned, and dying by a plan of his own devising. Smoked and starved to their deaths, the Paraiko have been, so that their curse may not fall on any who shed their blood.
Galadan has ever been the cleverest mind in Fionavar, and not all the Paraiko's strange (unsettling) grace could stand against him. Even now the last few are lingering on the threshold of that final descent into the dark.
He had expected that would make him feel satisfied. It does not.
Odd.
The only thing that has ever come close to giving him satisfaction, to granting him peace (aside from that window, outside of which lay his dream made real and almost tangible), had been learning the true fate of Amairgen Whitebranch. Amairgen, the man Lisen, beloved Lisen, had died for. Had spurned Galadan for.
It is that choice of hers that had driven Galadan to his own, so very, very long ago--and he had chosen the Dark, and service to Maugrim in pursuit of his own goal.
Annihilation.
But now there is a stirring in Lisen's Tower, in Pendaran Wood. Someone is there, someone who should not be there. He does not know who, not yet, but--no intrusion is permitted. Not in her place.
He will not allow it. Someone will be made to pay.
And the price will be very dear.