Rasalom closed his eyes and drank in the misery from above.

Ambrosia.

The strongest individuals provided the sweetest nectar when they broke. The Heir hadn't broken - it would take much more to crush that one - but he had been deeply gored, and his pain was a delight.

Glaeken's pain was a bonus. Rasalom hadn't realized what deep affection he'd harbored for the Connell woman.

And something else from Glaeken ... defeat? Was his old nemesis giving up? That was even sweeter. But it would not let him off the hook. He had slain Rasalom twice, deprived him of half a millennium of freedom. He would suffer.

He caressed the stump of his left wrist. So would the Heir. He had much to answer for, and Rasalom knew how to break him. The woman and child he so adored ... he would watch them slowly skinned alive - just for starters.

But until then, Rasalom would bide his time until the Otherness provided him with the seeds of Change. That would not happen until it was safe to proceed. The Lady's beacon of sentience had been extinguished, and so it was only a matter of time now until the Enemy realized that this sphere, a formerly valuable possession, had become worthless, and discarded it. When that happened, the Otherness would scoop it up and have its way.

Not long now. After all this time, not long at all ...