"In the tower lies Kazaa,
Where all knowledge and wisdom rests.
A guardian brave shunned by Hera
Held Sherill who holds sophia..."
The slayer utters the words like some mystic spell. And in a way, it was. He almost misses his demon-days encounter and swears willing to trade the near death moments for this other madness.
Six months, six days and six hours he had spent in the "Realm of the Fallen" and nowhere is he near now to the "Castillo de Maestro".The Talisman of Roth could rot there for all his care but the vision of Sherill had so enthralled her. He's like an addict now unable to turn back....
Like a moth drawn to the fire of imminent death, retreating has never been an option to begin with. And though the seeds of doubt throbs in his heart with a beat all its own, the allure of Sherill permits no such encroachment.
The Talisman would draw him to the guardian. That much he knows to be true. But with each passing time, the desert grows. And the bones and skulls along the way won't take him to the castle even if they knew.
He kept walking anyhow, which is more like a limp or a drag now. Death could overtake him anytime soon and he feels it to be most welcome. But the damned knows no heaven and is not entitled to have one.
From a distance a landmark all to familiar came to view.
Pain has just begun.
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