Seelin nodded, pleased with himself; just one last thing, and he would
be finished.

He trapped them both in time – they would relive, infinitely many times,
the last five minutes – for all eternity, there they would stay, two
soulless lovers, living forever in the purest pain imaginable

“And now, you are mine!” came Makali’s pleased words.

No one would ever own his soul. Giving his mace to Vorsias, he bowed
before the fallen angel. Seelin was done with his life; all he had
wanted was revenge, which now he had – he was ready.

As the cold, spiked steel connected to his head, no cry left Seelin’s
lips.


Penned by my hand on the 15th of Glacian, in the year 383 AF.