“Mistress. The Betrayer opened the Way.”
“Mistress.”
“Mistress.”
The adoring chorus sang the words – and they were sweet to her ears. “And the templars?”
“Coming, as you foresaw.”
“Coming.”
“Coming.”
She smiled, sharp teeth white against coal-black skin, her wings unfurling in flame. “Good. My devoted Zenzorem – you will be avenged. Ready the chorus, my dear ones. Ready the song. Bring me the Broken One, and ready the wolf-cages. All that we have hoped for arises, remember now your place. Go forth and seek them – find their camp, and watch them. Bring back word of where they go to ground. Fly, sweetlings – fly and find them.”
The eredar around the greater demon nearly sobbed as they heard her speak, overcome – and they spilled forth, away from the great couch, and her wings of flame.
Seeking. Watching.
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