I have never known silence. My existence was forged in the Eternal Flame from Belief, Prayer and Fear of a million voices. I hear them always beseeching and pleading. I smell the burning flesh of offerings and taste the purity of souls offered in the vain hope that it will not be their souls I take.
The clamour of voices is relentless, day and night. And here I stand in the great audience hall of Dul-Raya, surrounded acolytes, aides and generals. All of them ready to act on my every word. And here right before me are a handful of prisoners taken in the recent skrmishes along the Razor Peaks. I see the fear in their eyes but they kneel and are silently defiant. There is a bond between them forged of blood and battle and comradeship.
And just for a fleeting second I feel envy, for despite the voices in my head and the wretched souls around me, I know I am truly alone. And with that I look into the eyes of the captives before me and watch with detatchment as their souls wither and die.