Her lips arose at the corners, her words flirtatious, off topic. “You’re so flawlessly beautiful, bound up in your Darkness. Have I said?”

“Many times,” Raethurr swallowed, “my Comeliness.” He felt the Mark of the Ravaged Heavens upon his bony temple begin to glow, releasing its toxic, pleasured pain.

The woman’s smile grew playful. “Yes, you’re right. I have, haven’t I?” She started his way and halted, lingering on a pretense. “But we’re all flawlessly beautiful, are we not?” Then she added, “Of course, need I mention that some of us are more beautifully flawed than others?” After a brief glance at herself, satisfied, S’ilKuSheere took to pacing once more, almost prancing. She walked along the flatter expanse of stone, on stage before her gathered flock. “So, to the point: Am I to report these lasting memorials of Light to ShakkGôn Sul?”

When there was no reply, again she smiled alluringly and walked sinuously over to Raethurr, the flatter stone beneath her rising up to meet him, her pliant fingertips now running along his hollowed jaw. “Well, am I, treasure?” Her face moved closer, a slow, sensual advance, and, full lips parting, she leaned in as if to deliver a kiss to the ghastly, shrunken skull. She stopped just short, however, whispering with seductive heat, “I think not.” Their faces hung in air, magnets attracted to the nearness between them. “And do you know why?” she continued in a hushed tone. “Because you will, lover, telling the Great One exactly why these monuments remain.”