Mezche was standing at the edge of the precipice. He could discern the innumerable silhouettes of willing martyrs for the Queen standing underneath. Their severe loathing for him was immeasurable by words. The thought of it brought a scornful grin on Mezche's face.

Melona was swinging the Silver madly at the soldiers who had surrounded her, killing many at a stroke and splaying their innards out, bathing in their blood. However, she was heavily outnumbered, one to a score.

Pool of mist divided the army from discovering his unbelievable proximity to them. He looked at the shining brilliance of the Fragrance under the rays of Spre. A swift wind by his ears. A moment of breathlessness. And the war cry was heard as Mezche crashed into the imposing battalion.

The staff was gleaming in the bright melight that permeated everything, vile or pure. Silver never catches the blood it spills and thus always seems fresh and unused. However its holder was sitting still, as her innumerable enemies circled cautiously with their arms drawn. She knew that she had been struck a fatal blow on her neck. She looked up at the Me as she felt her body losing its ability to feel. And suddenly time stopped.

He was struggling to maneuver the great staff that he had so shamelessly stolen from his master. The circle that contained him was gradually becoming smaller and smaller and fast approaching its center. A blow from a sword to the chest, as everything went dark. Suddenly, the expression of death on Melano's face floated in front of him, desperately trying to tell him something. He finally smelt the Fragrance in him.

"Secor nifi Naca sorne". Her final words set the prophecy in motion.

The entire battalion lay dead before him. No mercy had been shown on any one and all were tended with a swift stroke of deathly metal. He turned towards the setting Spre. "Secor nifi Naca sorne".The fate of Laye was sealed, once and for all.