Son of Finwë
I know not what madness seized my soul. The chilled cloak of doom suddenly felt alight with warmth, scorching warmth that raped my senses into frenzied rebellion. And I surrendered to the temptation of beholding death. Flirtation I started whispered incantations of a bloodied climax. Scattered images of torture hummed in my veins, tempting… I was lost beyond the threads of time, beyond the vastness of Eä. For when death sings, the rhythm is lulling but to enraged hearts the dance is swift, swifter than death itself. My own destiny I etched into the forehead of time: He who marred evil.