Turmoil, the world bellowed; the empires shuddered, the kingdoms faltered and swayed, the loams wept. “How fortuitous.” Domination slipped from her lips, a callous, clever noose, aligned to the gallows of their prosperous, predacious reunion, haunting and halting the severed slips of previously tied ropes. The depths of his puncturing eyes absorbed, captured, her form, assembled the fathoms of her dreams, her yearns, her desires, and his mind mulled, calculated, distorted the ripple of countless creations to be eagerly torn apart by their ruthless machinations. A foreboding trace of the unknown, ruled and reigned by the merciless twist in their feverishly sculpted designs, from fire to stone, from unraveled strings to taut, meticulous ruses and schemes, covert and clandestine, shadowed and blighted, plagued. They coveted oblivion, deceit, cold, barbaric entropies, enmity, harsh, unreeling shells of hollowed, hallowed compositions, angels and devils dancing upon the same threshold, upon the same empire, scouring the halls for their ultimate upheaval. Were she to stir calamity with him, were she to prosper maelstroms and perform feats of villainy, conspire and ravage, ruin and paralyze, with the semblance of his malice, of his malevolence, of his abhorrence and unholy tenacity, their enemies would understand the value of power, the wild, ferocious splendor of decadence. They’d scream, shout, an unrelenting force of repose and regret, and the wicked demons, the seraphs and the blackguards, the greedy and the conniving, satan’s blade and mouth, would finally render them into withering, decaying, festering silence. Strength, diligence, and devious armaments, all united and conformed to their monstrous display of heathen munitions, a maddening pulse of depravity, a scathing, searing burn of morality, and he relished every morsel of their combined apathy, heartlessness, power and precision. The edge of his vocals simmered again, roamed and combed the inner halls of their darkened veils, of their patchwork disorder and revolution, reeling and steaming with the foreboding indulgences of mayhem, of malice. “I want the same.” Cruelty and savagery in the same flickering flame, embers and coals, sparked, ignited, incensed by the cold convergence, by the augured, presaged fixtures, by edges of shoal and shore, smoky laughter and silent opuses. He tilted his head again, and was suddenly the boy once more, innocent scion locked into future scabbards and sheathes, but underneath the curiosity, the inquisitions, were the trappings of iniquity. He’d grown far too much beyond the reach of Isilme, traced the foundations of brutality, and longed to offer the same to his sibling. Like an act of childhood, the dark, smoldering vocals pervaded the air, presented his sister with a plaything, a world to preside in her wishes. “Come to the Basin, Zuri?”

Death, you bring death, and destruction to all that you touch.