This chapter is a handful of poetry and other ramblings about the Lone Power, or from his point of view.


Darkness bites and calls to me.

I made it so I must serve it,

And in serving it it is created.

Death,

My charge.

So, slowly do they die, and, slowly too, my power fades,

But through my creation of it,

I can avail myself of it naught.


There is no malice in the dark, nor is there joy in the darkness I inhabit.

There is only reflection, you have only yourself, both blessing and curse as that may be.

I live in shadows, speaking from the parts of you you ignore or try to stamp out.

I pity you for that, that you can't see that acceptance is better than denial.

Watching from the darkness I have come to care for you, even though that goes against my purpose, or at least, I think it does.

To never die, only to kill. The creator's curse. To never be able to be affected by your own creation. I am changing, slowly but surely it is happening, but it leads me to wonder. If I can not avail myself of my own creation, can my darkness die?


Burning, burning in the light,

I look towards it, and I can see.

Burning, burning in the darkness,

I faced myself, and lost, and won.

Burning, burning in the spark,

I enter, and bar myself from entering.

Burning, burning in the shadow,

I have returned, and I never truly left.

Burning, burning in the Heart,

I am here, forever, never.

Burning, burning in my soul.

I am finished, saved, vanquished, lost.

Burning, burning in the world,

I am done, and started,

But can Death be taught to Die?


Hopefully this was worth the read.