She was ice.
Kaltain strode down the hall, wearing nothing but the robe that Elide had just had on moments before. But she felt none of the warmth that it held, slowly fading away against the ice cold of her skin.
She was chaos.
All around her she could hear the sounds of screaming, the sounds of agony as soldiers took their last breath. And yet, none of them could comprehend that they were given a merciful death.
She was darkness.
There was no singed smell, nothing to alert anyone to what was happening, other than the sounds of otherworldly pain. She began to descend the stairs, her body broken, but her mind drifting on haunting melodies.
She was suffering.
Kaltain had felt every thing that they had done to her, felt the bruises, the cuts, the torture that her supposed fiancé, if one could call him that, had given to her. They may have broken her body, but her mind was as sharp as ever. And now it was time that they knew she was aware.
She was cunning.
The Valg in the collar had long been eliminated. She had hidden away in her mind, letting it think she was gone. But she had waited until her tormentors were gone, before unleashing the deadly flames, honed by the power of the Wyrdstone, and ripped the Valg from her body.
She was unyielding.
The soldiers she set alight could do nothing to stop her, nothing to penetrate the fog of her will and determination. Determination to bring down the dark, to give Aelin a chance. She had no reservations. This was her purpose, the fate she and she alone chose.
She was vicious.
Kaltain had been a lady once; graceful, beautiful, yet cursed with magic in her blood. And so she was brought to the forge, molded into a weapon of absolute desecration. But she was through with allowing the mortal men to order her around, to let them do the things that they did with her.
She was unleashed.
The stairs twisted and turned, making her descent into the caverns of Morath slow. But all was well. There was only one way out of the despicable place. And she was going to make sure none made it past her to the sky above.
She was destruction.
There was no hesitation on her part, even as she knew she wouldn't be leaving this place again. The tower would fall, and Aelin would be rid of the creatures brewing inside. It was vital to the world becoming what it once was again.
She was fury.
Kaltain could not open the heavy iron door. Instead, she melted a hole straight through the wall. The sight that met her eyes would make even the bravest run for the hills. But she felt nothing, nothing save for the void in her soul.
She was shadows.
The inner fire that she had honed into dark despair danced about the room, incinerating the unearthly spawn in the cradles. Their screeching echoed against the stones, a sound heard for miles across the land.
She was death.
No one in this room would leave alive. The witch mothers, the demon witchlings, most of all the despicable Valg Prince. As she sent fire in waves around the room, she could see the fear in his black eyes. All Valg could not bear the flame.
She was mercy.
As she burned the inhabitants, she could see the gratitude in their eyes. The witches, who would no longer be forced to carry the demon spawn. The man who stood before her for only heartbeats, freedom shining in his eyes as she scattered his ashes on the wind.
She was destruction.
Kaltain turned slowly, eyeing her shadowfire. She knew of the blood on her hands, the untold amounts of bodies she would pay for. And with that final thought, she prepared herself.
She was oblivion.
And as the music crescendoed in her mind, she brought the world crashing down.