21 Almsberth 459
“Give me strength to fell my enemies… bathe my soul in fire and pain… Cleanse from my eyes the light of day, that all may know the glory and the passion of thy dark caress…”
Griiat muttered the invocation without thought, without expectation. Though the flames of the Dark Pyre were several chambers away, he could feel their heat like a bosom companion, a patient lover… a piece of his blackened soul. The former inquisitor had no illusions about the wickedness which resided in his heart. Since his rebirth in the flames of the Dark Pyre, the weight of his failure had settled within his incorporeal breast and clenched its icy grip around his lifeless heart. There would be no end to his wretched existence, now that the fires had cleansed him of all else…
Griiat turned. Reddengot’s hollow voice was unmistakable. The dread wraith hovered just beyond the edge of the doorway, a loose chunk of masonry drifting slowly through his head. Griiat considered his servant thoughtfully, the litany of the Pyre continuing to tumble from his undead lips.
“My master… the barracks is lost, master.”
Griiat nodded, returning his gaze to the mirrors around him. He had seen them emerge, knew that they were now in the temple. The place was full of fiends, but beyond his gaze. Nevertheless, these interlopers might very well be powerful enough to send the devils whence they came and cleanse him of an eternal irritant. He would wait… Then, when they were least expecting it, his servants would descend upon them and cut them down.
”... give me strength to fell my enemies…”
In the lower levels of Castle Korstull, the heroes complete their exploration of the chapel, vanquishing numerous fiends in the process.