--- In TheGothHouse@yahoogroups.com, "Thom Truelove"
<majormagik@e...> wrote:
> This House had ever been intended as the refuge of Hope. And
> Zophiel's had just been restored. He stood, saying only,
>
> "Ravenlord."

The name echoed to the angel from the darkened corners of
the Cloister, and with each reflection back on Zophiel, it darkened
more. The sound of his voice began to shred at the edges; began to
scratch and bite at his ears. It cut into his skin with cold Autumn
wind. The sound diminished to a whisper, then was gone. Shadows
grew in the Cloister, in the House, in the quiet.
Zophiel felt something tighten in his chest, felt something
like a wave of fever wash over him for a moment, then recede. The
water splashing in the fountain was distant, as though deep and far
away. That was how Zophiel felt as the shadows stretched out to
him: very deep, and very far away -- a single flame in a limitless,
black void.
And then, he felt he wasn't alone.
The angel turned towards the slithering, wind-stretched
sound of shadows sliding aside for their master's entrance. The
darkest shadow emerged, fixing its scarlet, burning eye on Zophiel.
The sanguine glow of the eye lit upon the shadows so that the angel
seemed to be standing knee-deep in dark, roiling blood.
Zophiel focused on its pale, inscrutable face as he felt the
Ravenlord's hollow voice fill his mind.
*For Thought and Memory, you have had time enough and I have
dismissed them ... Have you enough to remember, angel? Have you
need for more?*


Poe