Today I go to face my destiny, I will fight it and die trying. I hold no illusions that I can win
this fight, but it does not matter. I long for the sweet release of Death. "Release me, o'
Thirteenth passion, for I fear not thee or thy kingdom." But I fear my destiny. I fear the
abominable cause, the ultimate Terror that shall be my bane. And I fear seeing her again. As a
corpse, an undead servant of his or worse. Anyway, I shall not die an happy man. But I will
die, and that thought is relief itself. I almost smile when I think of it.
I am wearing my finest official garment, my Councillor's cloak and my finest skin
boots. I wear my statesman's ring, set with a single piece of Oricalchium. I carry my sabre as
arment, and nothing else. I try to bear my finest posture, one of pride and resolvement set on
carrying out this final task, though I nearly succumb to sorrow when I think of her.
I set out downards those stairs, those damned endless stairs. They are not
long, though, when your destiny is awaiting at the bottom step. The journey downards, into
the bowels of the Horror itself, seems like a daze. A misty dream, with occuring black shapes
and shadows, laughing entities enjoying the sight of another victim. Another one to feed the
neverending hunger of the One who Hunts Great Dragons. I am a doomed man, I do exactly
as He wants me to do and I know it cannot be another way. I look down the steps, it is dark,
but I see that the descent down is horribly long. Should I trip or slide, then I would fall to the
bottom and be smashed into a pulp. But He makes it easy for me, it seems as if the steps
respond to their master's wishes, and soon I stand at the bottom floor.
This cavern is so vast, so inexplicably vast,that I wonder if the entire Thunder
Mountain Range is hollow. It is dark, only the light from my lantern may be seen. Yet I feel
its vastness, being deep down here under the mountains I feel smaller and more insignificant
than ever before. I see stalacites so big they must be millions of years old, it is a aweinspiring
sight. Somehow, though, everything feels corrupted. Every rock, every little pebble, is twisted
and bent sickingly. I feel such terror. It is so dark here, he might be right in front of me, or not
here at all. He may be above me and behind me. I know he has the power to take my life at
any given time, but I do not think he will let me off that easily. All Horrors enjoy tormenting
their victims, and this is the ultimate of Horrors.
Now I see her. She is just a grey hovering shape, but I recognize her, of course I do. I
call out to her, tell her that I love her and miss her. In vain, obviously. He has made my
torment complete. He has, as I feared, transformed my love into a mindless shape. An unholy,
restless spirit. She will exist only from his power, and in a neverending loop of torment and
fear. Perhaps she does not even realize that she is a spirit, perhaps she thinks she is alive and
being tortured. Oh, Mynbruje avenge me! I cannot bear this. The great sorrow turns, and I
change. I call out to him, challenge him. Scream out all the obscenities I can think of. A small
blink of an eye, there he is. I charge at him wildly, my sword high above my head,
I..fight..Verji..
Today I got to meet my destiny, I will fight it and die trying. I hold no illusions that I
can win this fight, but it does not matter. I long for the sweet release of Death. "Release me,
o' Thirteenth passion, for I fear not thee or thy kingdom." But I fear my destiny. I fear the
abominable cause, the ultimate Terror that shall be my bane. And I fear seeing her again. As a
corpse, an undead servant of his or worse. Anyway, I shall not die an happy man. But I will
die, and that thought is relief itself. I almost smile when I think of it.