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Nagash could not help but stare at her. She seemed to flicker in and out of the mortal realm as quickly as the shadows twinkled in the torchlight of the colossal tomb. She leaned closer to her captor, and the chains restraining her to the walls of the humid pyramid clanked in time with her hypnotic movements. This was no ordinary enchantress of Ulthuan.

"Everything has occurred as I have dreamed it!" the seer cackled ominously, grinning wildly through the blood dripping from her angular features.

Sweat ran from his tanned brow as freely as the warm blood fell from her pale cheeks. He wiped his palm against his face, momentarily concerned that he was covered in her blood, too. The first son of Khetep had tortured the elf woman for the past month, and her entire crew of elven sailors had died. Only she had endured. And despite his cruellest intentions... she seemed to be enjoying it? Goading him on, pleading with him to take his punishments to more extreme levels. He studied her. His mind wandered for a moment as he pictured.... gallons of steaming blood, pouring over her naked body.

The chains clanked and strained against the wall of the dank chamber as the sorceress giggled in ecstatic joy. "Do it!" she whispered, trembling with anticipation. Nagash experienced a sinking feeling, quite certain for a moment that she could see his thoughts. He shivered. In an attempt to regain control of the situation, the Prince stood tall, straightening his back. "Tell me the secret of immortality," he commanded.

The pale, dark-eyed beauty began to laugh uncontrollably. Her mirth seemed to shake the entire mausoleum. Nagash felt his stomach turn, but he spoke out with a steely confidence, like that he heard from the Mortuary Priests who declaimed their ancient incantations: "If your gods showed you this, and still placed you here, either they care not for you, or they will you to aid me."

The mage woman with the black irises.... Or are her pupils as wide as her whole eyes? His captive smirked. "Of course. I have already delivered you a dozen souls, my King..." her smirk widened, her piercing gaze blazing crazedly through her touseled bangs. " ...well, I guess I shouldn't say King... should I?" Her tone was theatrical, like a sarcastic production of a mother consoling her poor baby. "Hmmm. Your kind doesn't value the blood of the firstborn, does it? The second son inherits your sandy little throne, isn't that right?" Her lilting accent seemed to condescend the Khemrian she spoke fluently with every syllable, mocking the Prince with its playful accusations of impotence. "Where I come from," she continued, "... blood is important. The TRUE heir is recognized."

Nagash frowned. He chose his next words carefully, furtively keeping his eyes on the myserious woman to gauge her reaction. "To betray my brother would be an affront to the gods," he said, in a tone that almost seemed to hope for a challenge.

Morathi smiled. "To deny your destiny would be to deny Him," she croaked demurely. "... offer yourself to the One True God. Everything else is an illusion, my King. Allow Him to give you all that you deserve."

The damned Prince picked up a large bucket and turned to gather the corpses of the druchii corsairs.

Night had fallen over Khemri.








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