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[[The Great Hall]]
[[Elegua Ponders]]
[[The Ghost Commander]]<img src="https://creativemuse.neocities.org/Twine/Images/lord_intro.png" width="95%">\
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//“Mirastina!”//
The command issues from the darkness and echoes between the marble columns in the Great Hall of Castle Gyre. Approaching footsteps, the rustle of cloth—the cloaked priestess Mirastina stands bowed before the dais.
She kneels, ignoring the stiffness and pain in her ancient knees.
<b>Mirastina:</b> “My Lord Elegua, Emperor of Night.”
A gloved hand curls away from a face locked by iron, etched by shadows; two embers appear, erupting with cold fire. He dismisses the towering Reaper Guards standing watch at his side.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “Your prophecy remains clouded.”
The voice is deep. Annoyed.
<b>Mirastina:</b> “All visions, my Lord, are subject to the vagaries of fate. This is…no common foe.”
This nemesis…
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “There is no fate but that which I command. I shall proceed as planned. Leave.”
<b>Mirastina:</b> “My Lord….” The priestess bows stiffly in retreat.
//Nemesis.//
[[Elegua Ponders]]
[[Back|Start]]<img src="https://creativemuse.neocities.org/Twine/Images/lord_window.png" width="95%">\
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He feels her presence like icy smoke; a curious mixture of anticipation and sorrow follows as she draws near.
He speaks without turning, thoughts energized by the maelstrom beyond.
“This peak…this barren crag in the midst of an endless twilight…racked by storms, surrounded by deadly currents, haunted by the souls of the dreamless dead."
//The Wild Reaches.//
He continues.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> "The Kingdom of Falling Darkness, indeed. Now a poisoned dagger poised at the throat of my greatest enemy. And not even he can touch me here. How ironic. The very bonds we seek to destroy now protect us.”
Flashes of lightning invoke her emerging reflection—stark beauty as pale as moonlight, eyes empty as death.
[[The Ghost Commander]]
[[Back|Start]]<img src="https://creativemuse.neocities.org/Twine/Images/alastia_here.png" width="95%">\
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Flashes of lightning invoke her emerging reflection—stark beauty as pale as moonlight, eyes empty as death.
<b>Alastia</b> “My Lord..."
//What cruel beauty this… by whom the greatest army of the Nightborn is championed.//
<b>Alastia</b> “What kind of man is Morph--?”
He silences her. Fury rising, barely contained.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “I will not have that name spoken here!”
//Nemesis…//
A momentary lapse. Calmly now.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “He considers himself a god to humanity—a concept we have always rejected, and which led to our exile in this blasted land.
He senses her fear and confusion. He laughs, mirthless and funereal.
<b>Alastia</b> “My Lord?”
He reaches out to her bone-white hair—his fingers pass as if through frigid water.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “The Lord of Dreams is cursed with the ideals of an old god.”
He nods slowly.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “Yes, I make war on a god. A false god. We stand again on sacred ground, girded for combat, but this time I will be armed with power beyond even the Immortals. This time I shall not be defeated. Is this not a war worth fighting? Worth winning?”
Alastia shudders at his touch, his words.
<b>Alastia</b> “How can you defeat even a false god?
He turns to the window.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “Like all gods, they have their weaknesses. He has his false ideals, his righteous belief in goodness and justice and hope. He has his pride. Without them, he is nothing. Without him, the mewling masses, the weak, the so-called Dreaming Hosts, are nothing. He will stand before the Memory Wall for the last great battle, and there, with his back against the Heart of Dreams, he will be vanquished.”
<b>Alastia</b> “This is your destiny?”
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “Yes!”
The King of the Dreamless answers to the darkness, his gloved hands becoming fists.
<b>Lord Elegua:</b> “Our destiny, Champion-General Alastia. My kingdom will see a new Dark Fall; a night that will cut away the corruption that has rotted the land, which has threatened to bargain away our sacred heritage to humanity. Our destiny… to kill a god.”
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