I express my deepest condolences for all you people out there who view Mobius as far more evil than I depict him. However, I do not believe he is. Insane and mislead, but at the end of Defiance, he was just as repulsed by the Elder God as Raziel and Kain were.

Prolouge

Free will is an illusion?

If only that were so.

In fact, it is Fate that is the illusion.

We traverse around, guided by one single, indominable Fate.

But Fate is powerless; the Elder God is powerless.

He can change nothing.

He can only go on, as he always has, toward the same result.

No, my friend, Fate has no power.

Power lies with another force, another divine concept.

Power lies with Paradox.

Those with the ability to create Paradox outstrip and outwit Fate.

And when Paradox has destroyed her rebellious antagonist, there will be only one outcome.

There will be one concept left over.

Choice.

Because Paradox is a weapon.

Fate is only a state.

Attacked long enough... everything falls.

A person gets sick many times, and they only die once.

But once once a person is dead, that is the end.

As long as time endured, so did Paradox, for Paradox was but a concept.

Fate was real.

Fate was mortal.

He could survive the spans of time.

But he was not immortal.

And Fate has no weapons .

None but those people who are afraid of change.

Of Choice.

Three blades of Paradox.

Three blades of Choice.

Finn. Reaver. Mesmer.

Three awakened by the middle child- the Reaver- the birth of Paradox.

The Undoing of Fate.

Salvation.

For Choice.

Kain, Wielder of Purity
(Directly after Legacy of Kain Defiance)

The first taste of that bitter illusion: Hope. And yet, Kain realized, he was never so strangly without guidance. Every story had come full circle. Raziel's destiny had been discovered. Janos's story had come full circle. Mobius was dead. For the first time, there did not appear to be a set path through time for him to take. No ledgends showed him onward. In fact- the only destiny Kain did not understand was his own! He was the Scion of Balance. The Savior of Nosgoth. But how, exactly, was he to go about saving anything? He did not even know where to start. He had been purified by Raziel's sacrifice, but he had no idea how to kill the Elder God. He was assured he was the Scion of Balance, but he did not know what he was supposed to do.

Kain was lost. And then suddenly, he blinked, watching a white orb form in front of him. It seemed to glow lightly, as if it were made of solidified light, a pearly luminesence. It seemed to roll upside down, like a curious child examining him from every possible angle. Then it zoomed around him. He blinked, gripping the Reaver tighter and taking a fighting stance. Mutly, it seemed to laugh, though how such a responce was understandable on a ball of light, the world may never know. Kain lifted an eyebrow, watching it float a bit away from him, and then 'look back' to see if he was following.

Wary, but curious, Kain followed the orb. It reminded him of the souls that the Reaver seemed to enjoy engulfing, yet it was neither humanoid nor green in luminesence.

Had Kain known what a Willo'the'Wisp was, he never would have followed the glowing, light-like creature. However, had he not been so uniformed on the matter, he would have missed out on the surprize it lead him to. Most Willo'the'Wisp lead their captive followers into swamps and bogs, where they were entrapped and slowly died. The wisp lingered nearby, absorbing the dying person's pain and anger. This wisp, however, was curiously different. It lead him the short distance to a small tower and then waited at the entrance for him. Kain snorted, hefting the reaver lightly, and then crept toward the tower, peering inside. There, before him, was a portal gate. The wisp flit up to the top of it, near a beacon designed to recieve energy, and suddenly started shining brightly. The beacon flared, the portal flaring to life. It was too easy. Kain glared between wisp and portal, silent a long moment... But for the second time in a miraculously small section of his long life, Kain wondered 'What choice to I have?' Led along by Fate or Paradox, he stepped slowly into the whirling doorway. Someone, evidently, had sent for him. If they were hostile like Kain's last 'assossiates', they would quickly spill the answers he desired at the point of the Reaver. And if his 'guide' was just as manipulative...

Well then, it was in for a similar surprize.

Page, Wielder of Light
(Some time earlier)

Mobius sighed, dropping a spell book to the kitchen table. This was it. In less then an hour he would face Kain, and his time would be up. This was the way his master's plans needed to work, the trek that time needed to take. Besides, why postpone the inevitable? He was going to die eventually by Kain's hand, it was written in time to be that way. He pulled his cloak from a chair, whirling it onto his shoulders. He shuddered and then coughed lightly, putting a hand to his mouth. He gave another shudder, coughing again, his slender shoulders quivering violently. He moved to the kitchen counter and poured warm water from a pitcher into his cup, his hand shaking. Then, still coughing, he poured ground up herbs from one pouch into the cup and several from another. He stirred the mixture for a moment and then lifted it to his lips, drinking it. It was bland and distasteful, but he hardly noticed anymore. Hardly noticed anything but his divine purpose anymore.

And yet, at that moment, he did notice one thing. A sound, coming from the side door. It was a hidden door, one that even Kain had not found, that allowed him to easily access the courtyard without having to navigate the complex maze he had built around his tower. It allowed him to easily get to his men and instruct them. Since the door was hidden, the sound could not be meant for his ears. But he heard it anyway. It was a sound that he had not encountered for quite some time. Unlike the taste of the tea, which he had to endure near every day, this was somewhat new. It was a cry- a wailing, dying cry. He was silent a moment and then moved up to the door, placing a hand on it and pushing it open, his energies unlocking the binds that kept it sealed. He was only mildly interested; he had nothing else to spend his time on. But he opened the door halfway and blinked at what he saw. A baby carriage had been practically tossed into the snow bank, near directly in front of the hidden door. The infant inside was kicking and crying, covered by a small wet sheet and half buried in snow. He snorted, disgusted at the impurity and lowliness of his fellow humans. To abandon their own young… Still, they were lowly and insignificant. They could be excused their primitive habits. He sighed and moved to turn, the door closing somewhat. The baby gave a last cry for help and kicked the sheet from its face. Its cheeks were blue, its lips purplish. But it's eyes… He froze, staring at the small child, watching its eyes. A tannish opaque color. The same as his own. Little tears came down its pale cheeks as it cried, seeming to look straight at him for a moment. Then it reached towards him with its tiny little hands, crying softly, pleading almost. He opened the door and stepped towards the child, shaking his head.

"What do you want, little one?" It cried out again, its tiny hands straining toward him, the only creature that had not yet abandoned it. "I will be dead in a matter of minutes, I cannot help you." The child cooed, shivering, crying for him still. Its eyes were beautiful, unlike his own accursed ones, its eyes almost amber instead of tan, as its tears streamed down its face. It was crying louder now, blubbering and whimpering in the cold. He sighed and came up to it, kneeling and picking the child up out of the cradle. The baby sniffled, letting out a light cry and clung to his shoulder, shivering against him. "Alright, alright," he muttered, picking up the carriage with one hand. "You win, you win. It's not like it really matters anyways." He turned, moving back to his rooms and dropped the carriage to the ground as the door shut behind him. She was still sniffling and he patted her back awkwardly, never having had to deal with such a situation before. He wasn't sure why he bothered taking the poor creature in- it would only die of starvation anyways- but it took his mind off his fate and… it reminded him of himself… and his youth… "It's okay," he said softly. "It's okay, it's okay. You win…" The babe sniffled and clung to him tightly, its chill face resting against his shoulder. He sighed, picking up a cloth and stroking its damp cold skin, getting the moisture off of it. He gave the cradle a kick, pushing it toward the fire so it could warm up. Then he sat down in a large armchair before the fire, wiping the child's hair slowly. Its blanket was wet and it was still cold, so he pulled it from his shoulder and sat it on his lap. It clung to one of his hands, but made no other objection, watching him with interest and wonder. Mobius reached over and pushed open a drawer. He moved his hand into it and pulled out a cloth. Then he pulled the cold blanket from around the little infant.

"A girl," he remarked and then hesitated, unsure of whether to just wrap the child up or make a feeble attempt at making a diaper. He opted for the diaper- best not to die with baby poop on one's robes. He sighed once more and wrapped the blanket around her little hips, as she seemed to giggle at his confusion. "Well, at least you seem to be enjoying yourself," he muttered, eyeing her. He finished and pulled out another cloth, wrapping it around her body. Then he picked her up. She giggled, clutching the sleeve of his robes. Her face was warmer, her lips warm and red. Then she gave a little yawn, her eyes dimming. He smiled and went over to the cradle, holding her against his shoulder. He felt the cradle to make sure it was warm, and then spread another cloth in the carriage. Then he set her down in it, picking the cradle up and setting it down on the kitchen table.

Almost time.

Almost time to meet Kain. He turned and moved from the cradle to take his staff. Instantly the infant burst out crying, reaching for him. He blinked, looking back at her. Then he moved his hand back to the cradle- moving towards her- as she seized his hand, pushing her cheek against his fingers. Mobius was silent, watching her.

"I have to go," he murmured, even though she couldn't understand. He reached over to the icebox and pulled out a kettle of milk. He poured some into a cup, for he had no idea how else to feed it to the little child. Then the Time Streamer pondered for a moment and then pulled out a cloth, saturating it with milk. He drew it from the milk and put it, dripping, in front of her face. Her mouth parted slightly and she started sucking on the cloth, draining it of milk, her face bright with delight. He pulled away from her for just a moment to redampen the cloth. She cried out and then started coughing. He blinked and looked at her as her coughing turned to choking. He pulled out another rag, dipped it in the herbal tea, and then held it over her face. She gasped, as he held her, back facing up, to cough. This made it so that she wouldn't swallow any fluids her body was trying to spit up and choke on them. After a few moments her spasms eased and he pulled the cloth back, looking at her with a small measure of concern. Then he looked at the rag and blinked. Blood.

"Consumption," he murmured, looking back at her. A pity. He could have cured the disease if he'd had more time. Though if he'd had more time he wouldn't have bothered trying to keep himself occupied by tending for a youngster. The infant clung to his hand, curling up against him. He was silent again, watching her. "So trusting. When I could kill you with a flick of my hand. So trusting… and innocent..."

He wondered why he bothered feeding her. She would only starve or freeze once the fire went out anyway. But... she reminded him of his own destroyed childhood. Captured and raised by the damniable vampyric broods, he had been given a hellish existence as well. ...And though he would not admit it even to himself, somewhere in him he wished someone had taken pity on him.

Mobius fed her more milk until she was somewhat drowsy and looked as if she'd soon fall asleep, content. Then, slowly, he pulled his hand from her grip, pulling the cloths around her face and gently tucking the edges of the makeshift blankets under her body. It occurred to him that he was almost being cruel. To give this child false hope and then present to it the death of starvation or choking to death over simply freezing- a death she had almost already achieved when he found her- was not exactly kind. He could always poison her, he supposed, and she'd die quietly in her sleep, but he had little time to concoct such a formula, and those potions he had on hand would cause extreme suffering- that would be no better.

A knife wound would keep her from a slow death, especially if he hit her heart. He looked down at the elaborately carved blade sheathed at his waist. After all, she had no hope. She would die when he left her- she too small to make a fire, and, even if she managed to keep warm without it, too weak to even find food to sustain herself on. But that would be too messy, he realized, thinking it over. Stained in a child's blood was not the way he was to die. And then he couldn't really call Kain the murderer. He sighed lightly and then turned, moving towards the door.

The instant his hand touched the wood, she let out a cry. The cradle rocked back and forward with her movement as she practically lunged to the side of the carriage, reaching for him, too weak to even sit on her own. Mobius lowered his head a moment, but only one. He had a task and roll to perform – Vorador must die and young Kain must be left as the only vampire in Nosgoth. All was working to the Elder God's plan… That was… unless Raziel decided to join Kain…

And while Mobius's stone heart might feel the slightest grain of pity for the child, it was nothing more. He pulled open the door and set one foot through it. Somehow she realized she was truly losing him. Her crying became wild and desperate and then suddenly she choked. Her crying turned to coughing and half cooed sighs, filled with tears, too choked with crying to breathe. He paused, listening to her spasms, as a memory of his own frailness, his own youth flashed through his mind. He could take care of himself, could make the herbal tea or a poultice, which would ease his breathing. But the child... She was defenseless... she could neither brew tea nor stir potion. She could barely sit... He looked back at her slowly, his eyes revealing nothing of what he thought.

The Time Streamer could hear the shouts now, his warriors running to the guillotine. He should be there already. But louder and closer then that were the tear-filled chokes and cries of the child before him. Her little eyes looked up at him as she quivered, barely able to breathe. Slowly Mobius turned back to the door, his eyes shifting back and forward, thinking, calculating, analyzing, as always, his options. There was time. He could drag out time in the sphere around his sanctuary. He could not postpone the inevitable, but he could, perhaps, buy the child enough time to cure it…This would pose no problem. Fate would smooth everything over perfectly. Still, it was an unnecessary change. Though this one would create no loophole… Such a wasteful change might have the effect of angering his master.

The coughs were getting worse, the child, weaker. Suddenly there was a thump and yelp. He turned around to see the carriage on the ground, the little girl twitching, trying to crawl toward him, blood oozing from the corner of her mouth and forming in a huge puddle and smear on the ground. Mobius watched her for a prolonged moment. Then he turned and came up to her, kneeling down and picking her up. Instantly the tears stopped falling, though the pained coughs would not cease.

"Alright, I'll stay... I'll stay, I'll stay..." She gave a small cry of pain, clinging to him as one would to the very manifested essence of life itself. She brought her over to the counter, lying her down and wrapping the displaced blanket back around her. Then he took the cloth dipped in the tea, rewetted it and placed it over her mouth, turning her half on her side, half on her stomach so she'd stop choking. She sighed out, her coughs growing calmer, but they still tore at her with a passion, her little arms and legs twitching every so often as if she were having a seizure. He gently stroked her forehead, pushing her hair back. "I'll be right back, I swear-" He moved to the side and she cried out as if in agony, straining towards him. "Shhh, little one, shhh!" He almost scolded as he moved off to the side to grab a few herbs. "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere... I'll stay. For now, I'll stay. Just until you're strong enough..." She stopped screaming so loud, reducing her pleas for him to a soft, choking gurgle, listening to his voice. So he kept reassuring her till he found the correct plants. He turned to a cauldron hanging over the fire and poured some water from the kettle he'd used earlier in. Then he tossed the herbs in, kicking an extra log of wood into the fire.

Mobius turned and came back to her, picking her up gently and supporting her, stomach down. Her coughs lapsed into sighs, her eyes closed tight, as her little fingers coiled tightly around his.

"There," he murmured after she started relaxing, "that's a good girl..." The shouts in the distance eased almost at the same rate with which she calmed. As her eyes dimmed and closed and she slowly slept, the last of her coughs gone, so did the cries in the distance finally cease. He pulled the cloth from her face and turned her over after he was sure she was asleep, gently cradling her. Slowly he supported her over to the cradle and turned it right side up, laying her down slowly. He picked the carriage up then, setting it back on the table, tucking the child back in. Then he pulled back slowly. She was either sound asleep or too weak to protest anymore. The Time Streamer sighed and turned to the cauldron, stirring it slowly with a wooden ladle that lay at the side of the fire, slowly bringing up the time bubble.

During the course of the several hours it took Mobius to prepare the salve he was making, the little girl awoke. She started, brushing quickly against the wood of the cradle, and that was how the Time Streamer managed to turn around and get to her as she was still sniffling, and hadn't broken yet into all out bawling at the top of her lungs. She giggled upon seeing him so near, cooing and clinging to him tightly. The Time Streamer docked his head to the side, sighing imperceptibly, wondering how he could ever end this 'clinging' business without her shrieking at the top of her lungs. Finally he simply reached into the cradle and picked her light body up. She laughed and grabbed the hood of his robe tightly as he rested her against his slender shoulder. Then, holding her with both hands, for he'd exerted himself enough already and was feeling his own cough returning, he turned and came back to the pot, looking down at the boiling contents. She cooed in wonder, looking down as well. Then she giggled.

"Oh you think that's funny, do you now?" he asked, eyeing her. A miniscule hint of good-natured humor seemed to pass through him, for just a moment, as she giggled, tugging the hem of his hood. "Then you can stir it." He picked up the ladle and offered it to her. She cooed and balled her little fist around the handle. Lucky for her the handle was slender, for Mobius was fine-boned and slender as well. He took one hand from under her and placed it on her little hand, gently moving both her arm and the spoon to stir the potion. She was silent, watching his hand move hers around and around and around and around and around...

Apparently a fast learner, when Mobius released her hand, she peered at him, stopping the movement of the ladle. He watched her without saying anything as she slowly looked back to the pot and then, after hesitating a moment, began stirring again. He grinned, reaching up and gently stroking her hair, not interrupting her so that she could learn that she was doing as he wanted. Yet suddenly he paused. Why was he doing this? He had prolonged his life, yes, but only for a few days... Why teach her such menial tasks if there were no reason for them? Still, he supposed he could leave the child at an orphanage. And there, such obedience might aid her. He watched her stir for a few moments and then took the ladle back, stirring with one hand. She cuddled up against him, her little hand clinging to the folds of his robes, her head lying sleepily on his shoulder.

What a strange child. So tiny and- most likely- so very young, and yet already able to think and understand. She could already comprehend what it meant for someone to leave her, could already comprehend how to please, even though her mind was so untrained. And she could probably barely even sit without aid. Her muscle control wasn't perfect, that was sure. She moved with the jerkiness and uncertain thrashing of all infants, was barely been able to move the ladle through the thin salve, but she had understood. She had understood what he wanted her to do, even if she could not yet physically do it. She fell asleep quickly, but he didn't return her to her cradle, letting her sleep against him. The manipulative Time Streamer gazed down at the child and sighed.

"Why do I care? You are insignificant." She gurgled lightly and he sighed, looking out at nothing with his glazed, opaque eyes.

Mobius sighed. The child was irrepressible. Every time he tried to leave- just for a moment- just to use the bathroom- just to pick up something and move it- she burst out crying. Her eyes would water, and she'd reach for his hand until he returned to her. She was curled up against him in his lap at the moment, half seated, curiously examining the vampyric-weakening orb of his staff, and the intricate carving of the snake wrapped around the orb. Eventually getting bored, she looked up at him, looking a bit sleepy and smiling lightly. He shook his head and picked her up, carrying her over to her cradel. There, he laid the small child down, gently pulling a towel over her to serve as a blanket. She cooed lightly as he reached over for his staff, her eyes widening. In annoyance, he glanced back at her.

The child blinked and then giggled lightly, reaching up toward him. He was still a moment, and then offered her a hand. She latched on to one of his fingers, nuzzling against him. He smiled lightly, and in a spurt of humanity, tickled her gently under the chin.

She giggled, her mouth opening-

Just wide enough to expose two white pointed fangs.

Mobius's expression changed instantly. He withdrew his hand with a snap and then hit the cradle, sending the child to the floor. She wailed in protest, hitting her chin on the floor, as he whipped out his bone dagger. Then she started coughing, spasming. He kicked the cradle off of her and dropped to his knees. The child turned and looked up at him with wide eyes, just as his hand pinned her down and his blade sunk into her tiny body. She froze, mid-cry, her eyes wide and pain-filled, staring up at him.

"Damned creature!" He snapped angrily. Then he paused, staring at her, as she lifted her tiny blood covered hands towards him, reaching for him. She was dying and she neither wailed nor screamed, just reached for him. He trembled, slowly pulling out the blade as the child cried out, tears coming down her face. He lifted it again but there his resolve failed him. The blade clattered to the ground and he reached forward, picking her up. The little infant started crying, still reaching for him and he groaned, pulling her against him, rocking back and forward. "It's better this way, you must die- it's better that way- Husshh," He whispered fervently, stroking her hair. "Shh, it'll be over soon. I swear, it'll be over soon, shhh… The pain will go away soon. It'll be over, little one; it'll be over soon." Her little hands clutched his robes, clinging to him. He looked at the ground with those strange opaque eyes and frustration and pain touched his features. "Why? Why after all these years do I finally find I can care for something- I have never felt sympathy like this before... I have never felt such pity- I postpone my own death to care for it, all to now find out this- a vampire! Why?" Mobius was generally something of a coward and a word-twisting fiend. But in a short amount of time, he had discovered something surprizingly... surprizingly 'dear' to him. And just as quick as it had come, it was destroyed. His life truly held no good but to serve the Elder God. He should have seen that- if this child was not in his visions of the future- that she died, as insignificantly as any other hu- vampire died.

Anger was in his voice, but he looked down at the child, so trusting and uncomprehending of why she was in so much pain, clinging to him. Pain softened his anger again and he held the child tightly, leaning back against the couch and sighing out in pain, anger, and frustration. The child gave a little cry of protest when he moved, as if she was afraid to lose him. His grip tightened around her instinctively and he whispered softly, 'shh, shhh…'

When Mobius awoke, his shifted, blinking back sleep, and then remembered where he was, looking down at the little bundle in his arms. Her eyes were shut to slits, but her eyelids did not waver. Her gaze was endlessly staring, the rims of her opaque irises showing under her lashes, never blinking. His stomach jumped and he moved his hand, gently touching her face. She was as cold as ice. For a moment this confused him until he realized that before hand she had been warmer. She had radiated the warmth of the living. Yet how could she…? She was an undead… Had been an undead… It didn't matter now… Her little body lay lifeless in his arms, her blood spilled over his robes, her hands still clinging lightly to him. ...Mobius had never actually felt guilt before that moment. What he did not know was that fate was no longer entirly in control of his fate. The Elder God's grip slipped, to the diety's future amazment, on his most devout and loyal pawn. There was another force now... Paradox had reared its head... and it demanded a result. Paradox had sent Mobius the most controversial of all beings. Paradox knew exactly what it was doing. It had sent something perfect. Something to inspire sympathy, compassion, and hatred, in a being generally cold with lothing and manipulative calculations.

His eyes closed and he moved his hand, gently shutting her eyes, his fingers running down her face. A sharp pain. His eyes flashed open and retracted his hand instantly, looking at it. A pinprick of blood was on his finger. He looked at her again to see her mouth had been parted slightly- he must have nicked his finger on her fang-

Mobius blinked. He had felt a slight stirring in the child and watched in amazement as her features moved, her eyelashes twitching. He hesitated a long, long moment, watching her. Then, slowly, he moved his hand forward, letting the blood that oozed from his digit touch her lips. She didn't bite down, but as the blood trickled down the creases of her lips she swallowed. Her brow furrowed, pain showing on her face, as she parted her mouth further, yearning for the thing that could sustain her life. Yet she never bit, though his hand was right there in front of her. He quivered and then moved his finger into her mouth. This he hated- the cold touch of the vampyric bite upon warm skin…

The bite never came. Her mouth closed softly around his finger and she neither drew blood into her mouth nor bit down, simply swallowed what flowed into her throat. And there before his eyes, her wound started to regenerate, that fast and with that little blood. After a few moments she released his hand, her eyes opening as she snuggled against him. This was too much for the vampire slayer and he stood, striding over to the carriage and picking it up. He practically threw her in it, grabbed his staff, and, while she cried and protested him leaving her, threw open the doors of his rooms and left, the great black masses shutting behind him. He could hear her pathetic wailing through the doors as she cried helpless in her casket, reaching for the doors. He paused in the doorway, just before the door closed entirely, the heel of his boot keeping it open. He could hear coughing, choking as the child went into a spasm. His body shuddered and he turned around, coming back to her. She was choking, but reached for him through her coughs, pleading for him not to leave her. He quivered once and then slowly, his hand moved towards her. He reached into the cradle and her little fingers curled around his.

"It's okay," he murmured, "I'm here… I'm here…" He paused… staring at her. And then he added, "I'm sorry…" She gave a little choke and he took in a breath, holding it. He tried to hold back. He tried to stop himself. But… No, he turned his gaze away, blocking out the sounds of her struggling lungs. After a few moments he felt her grip loosening, becoming weaker. She couldn't breathe…

Paradox demanded. Mobius had no choice but to give. He turned around, picking up the child, and administering it a similar treatment as he had last time, holding a rag soaked in the herbs over her face.

(Some time later again)

Dark. So dark... So cold... It has always been cold- througout my entire memory... I cannot remember before the cold. Then again, I would not want to remember. I was no better then I had been in the undead life that I do, currently, remember. It was bitterly ironic, that, in everything I had been, I had been a monster...

Only when my faceresembled that of the greatest abomination, in the form of a wraith,had I ever found any thing in my soul thatwas altruisticor good. I feel the world around me surreally... as if it is not there... I know what is happening to me... I know that the monster... my tormentor... has been defeated... I drank souls from him, imprisoning them within myself. I drank in Mobius, for he had been the last to die. I drank in the lives of countless humans. I drank in the soul of Turel. I entrapped the soul of Mortanis. I tasted the monster's blood...

And I was content with knowing I had robbed it of so many souls, souls held safetly within my vessel. I had robbed it of it's favorite meal. I had not killed it, no, but I was satisfied with my victory all the same.

Something. Every instinct screamed, every sense targeted on one small spot in the great universe around me. I felt warmth. It was weak... and so far away... but it ebbed through my wretched... blessed blade. There... there... Something... Something warm... I wanted it, deep within the core of my being. Whatever that 'something' was, I wanted it! And yet, with a step, my lord Kain stepped through the portal... And it vanished. I gave a violent tremor, and Kain paused, gazing down at me.

And then, I was left with nothing but loss. It was gone. It was dark again, and cold. Kain shook his head and followed the whisp... I did not care where they traveled. I did not see the building we entered... and I did not think about how long it took to get there. It could have been moments... or days...

But I felt, suddenly through my haze of morbid depression, surprize and amazement shoot through my wielder... And I wondered at its cause...