A robed figure stood perched over the manor's roof. Starlight reflected against the mirrors, a distant clamor rang akin to the falling of a gong. Igna faced the opponent with an emotionless expression. Robe faded into the night, the devil shifted his head, the presence reappeared, "-we meet again," said the entity.
Igna turned and smiled, "Exia Longeth, one of the inheritors of death, I was under the impression Draebala kept thee?"
"After my defeat," pure rage held his tone superseded by an enviously murderous intent, "-I was lost, didn't know what to do. I wanted revenge, I wanted my companions to return and there," he paused, patted his face as if to check the expression, "-I heard it, the voice of salvation, the voice of truth, the voice of my master."
