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"It's locked tight," Galain said with disgust as he and Adarin stood before the temple's door. "No way in." Both he and the Elen king's nostrils flared slightly, their sensitive noses picking up on the faint aroma of blood. Adarin's eyes widened and he wondered if someone else had gotten here first in an attempt to reach Tay. It appeared Galain was thinking along the same line because they both exclaimed "Callan!" together.
Then Galain was pounding on the door and yelling.
"Callan! Callan! CALLAN!"
Glowing eyes never left the flames before him or the ghostly figures that were striding from it, their forms becoming more solid and hideous with every lumbering step.
"You're not from around here, are you?" Callan grumbled out and dropped to a half-kneel. In the process he picked up a heavy, wide bladed scimitar dropped by one large Priest before he'd been near-gutted and cast aside to join his fellow follows in the pile. The slow scrape of steel on stone was lost in beneath a ear-piercing shriek from the lead demon.
"AUUGGH!" Callan cringed and shook his head as the pain stabbed at his ears. A dragon-like snort of anger and curiosity blasted out of him laced with whisps of smoke.
"So, part of a singing group then? I'll go with that..." Callan rose to his feet and swung the blade experimentally. The air made a low whooshing sound with each pass of the blade. It was heavier than most blades and not balanced quite right but would suffice. A loud growl welled out of his chest and shook the walls as he realized his whereabouts had been discovered by Adarin and Galain.
"Little pig, little pig let me in..." He sing-songed back in a little-boy's voice at Adarin and Galain, "Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin..."
Laughter, mad and twisted drifted back to the pair of elves outside the fused and melted temple doors, "Seriously though boys...I don't think you'd want in here...I seem to have a...mess...and I'm not. quite. done."
A metallic hissing sound followed his Sending, a dagger slipped from a sheath tucked in the back of his belt was drawn by his left hand and with the foreign blade in his right and the D'Riel blood-mark clawing at his flesh at his wrist, Callan watched with insane amusement at the minions of Haldanuru spread out and began to close in around him.
Galain stopped yelling and growled.
"He's such an ass. I like him, but he's just..."
"Nuts," Adarin supplied before he looked at his nephew. "I don't think pounding and yelling will work in this situation." He was already stepping away and was back by a few steps when Galain finally caught on.
"Can you count to three?" the Elen king gently taunted the prince, drowning out what Callan sent to them both.
"Minë!" Galain said in retort.
"Atta!" Adarin replied with a grin.
"Neldë!" Galain exclaimed, totally pissed off. At that moment four streams of balefire poured forth, two from each elf and the door slowly gave in, losing its seals before an onslaught of power that turned most matter into absolutely nothing.
Silence reigned supreme after a full minute however as both elves observed the full extent of the slaughter and destruction within.
"You call for him this time," Galain told Adarin who just stared back at him.
"Are you..." Adarin's voice faded away and he just shook his head. "Callan... like it or not, we're here. We're your reinforcements."
The king had stepped forward and wasn't feeling all that terrific. A person who had wreaked this sort of chaos couldn't possibly need assistance.
One of the beasts halted, the scent of blood hot on its serpentine tongue, the urge to feed overriding the need to obey Haldanuru’s commands. As its fellow Demons moved forwards, it hunkered down over one of the skinless humanoids, unsheathing knife like claws and shearing bloodied flesh from its bones. The sucking smacking sounds of a carnivore gorging filled the silence, a soft background prelude to the duet that followed, two raising their tones to an ear piercing shriek as the hunt was engaged.
A padding scraping sound from the back revealed two hounds of hell, hulking beasts with heavily muscled shoulders and lolling tongues. Eyes lit with fire sparked eagerly in anticipation, heads snapping in unison to the side as an inward implosion of air and a rain of shrapnel alerted them to further intrusion. With a chorus of haunting bays, the pair bounded off for the entrance.
The explosion sent shards of stone, splinters of wood and twisted hunks of glowing hot metal... the door hinges and hardware... sailing into the room. The intact pieces of door blew into the Temple, slammed into massive marble columns and shook Haldanuru's holy place to its foundations. The dust slowly settled, and an occassional sound of something falling, bits of yet more shrapnel, could be heard. In the midst of it all, deep in a forest of bloody, burning silk, chipped and shattered marble and barely living, scarcely breathing, slowly dying people, stood Callan Blackthorn, his back to the now open, non-existent doors.
"Like it or not? Imagine that..." Callan muttered blandly as his eyes tracked the approaching beasts through the cloud of yet-to-settle dust and smoke. Overheard, a sharp crack echoed along a buttress, fanned out like black lace at the juncture of ceiling and supporting marble beams. A rain of stone and mortar collapsed with a rushing sound of falling rock and landed just before and behind Callan.
The lead demon leapt over a pile of bodies, landing within claw reach of Callan Blackthorn and drawing in a scenting breath, a forked appendage flickering out past tight drawn lips, its sightless head swaying slightly as it located the distracted Dragon and lunged.
A strangled howl of Rage and pain shook the Temple from its rafters to its foundations, the sound a deep brassy basso that seemed oddly merged with a man's tenor cry as Callan and the demon went down in a tangle of arms and legs, claws and steel.
"No time to talk," Galain exclaimed leaping forward, sword drawn. He had gazed at the feeding animals for a moment, utterly repulsed, and then realized they were the most immediate danger. Adarin wasn't far behind, one hand bearing a sword, the other glowing with a ball of balefire.
"Hellhounds!" the Elen King exclaimed, leaping over a body and aiming his hand toward one of the hounds.
A secondary explosion rocked the temple, sending a circle of fire searing across the room, though it burned little before dissipating against the walls. Upon the dais and within the dancing flames stood Haldanuru himself, yellow eyes alight with amusement as he watched his pets at play with the intruders.
“I’ll give you this,” he said aloud, “You are certainly popular Light’s Hope… three males all come to save you. Isn’t that touching?” A sharp tug on a metal chain brought the Amazon round from behind him, knocking the redhead to her hands and knees beside one cloven hoof. Dull emerald eyes shadowed by dark circles lifted to glare at him from beneath a shock of matted crimson hair, but she said nothing.
An’Thaya looked impossibly small beside the Demon God, made more so by her nearly naked state, her delicate skin marred by dirt, blood and livid bruises. In equivalent, a standard Whispin week had passed for her in Haldanuru’s realm and her mind hadn’t quite grasped where she was yet.
Adarin paused and stared, his breath catching. This was not... it wasn't right! He launched himself at Haldanaru, conscious of Galain who was yelling with rage and heading straight for An'Thaya. Callan... he'd lost track of Callan.
A whip-crack sound exploded into the air accompanied by the howls of the demon that had taken Callan to the floor. A muscular yet sinuous black tail had wound around the hell-spawned creature and had lifted it high, only to slam it into the stone floor at an odd angle, on that broke its back and left if twitching in the grap of Callan's tail. Cruel laughter flooded the Temple as a third demon lept into the brawl, and found himself crushed beneath a massive claw. Topaz orbs shone down through the smoke, the Black Emperor's true nature had won out his desire to finish a fight as it had began. Instead, over Galain and Adarin's head and crammed into the Temple itself, was Callan's full draconic body.
"Perhaps," his rumbling, landslide basso echoed harshly off blood and stone, as he peered into a face that little resembled the proud red-head who's delicate form kept his mate a prisoner, "you should allow me to redefine the word...hero..." The last word was hissed out as Callan's onyx scaled head swayed near the ceiling and far above the two enraged mates of An'Thaya Alcarin.
"That...bitch..." His head shot down to mere feet above Haldanuru's flame, "can rot in Nine Hells...I'm not here to save her. I'm here to pass a message on to her," Serpentine pupils snapped to mere slits of black in glowing topaz eyes, "For taking my mate with her," Callan took one thunderous, crashing step forward, hate laced evey word uttered with black poison," I will kill every. single. child she ever spawned...beginning with this one..."
The feel of breaking bones, then Amilyn's terrified scream replayed itself along the bond so recently forged between himself and Agaru, the sight of her eyes, enormous and consummed with horror of imminent death as she was dropped over Corin flooded the channel between the Crimson and the Black.
"You can keep her," a cold, reptillian smile curled his scaley lips, as his jaws snapped up one, then another dying Priest.
"And I'll keep Corin." He mumbled around a dribbling mouthful of gore, "I can always find another mate." Phosphorescent eyes snapped to the Amazon, "You TOOK her...and your world will pay the price for your carelessness..."
A shriek of rage had An’Thaya at the end of her leash, the scrape of metal on crimson scales filling her ears as it brought her up short, just at the edge of the flames. Heat seared her flesh, burning a forearm before Haldanuru could react and pull her back. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air, but the Amazon didn’t seem to notice.
“YOU BASTARD!” Crimson wings erupted from Tay’s back as she leapt upwards instead, full claws extended as she swiped at Callan’s lowered head. It wasn’t her that glared out at the Black however; it was Agaru, fully enraged and suddenly hungry for his blood.
“I came here willingly you ASS,” the Crimson snarled, borrowing Tay’s ‘pet name’ for Callan Blackthorn even as she hijacked her voice, “And if I’m that easily replaceable, I’m fucking glad I did. You TOUCH a hair on her children’s heads, and I swear… you’ll never have me back whether I get out of here or not.”
A second jerk on the chain brought her tumbling back down, the crack of bone audible as she smacked down flat on her back, a twisted wing giving under the impact.
“My, my,” Halda hummed, “You certainly know how to get under her skin Callan Blackthorn. I must admit to liking you… I just love what you’ve done with the place.” A cloven hoof pressed down on the tender tissues of Agaru’s wing, snapping the pinions at the top. “Two such lovely creatures in one package… I’m not sure which I enjoy more… both put up such a titillating fight. We have been enjoying or time together, haven’t we my dear? So much to discuss, so much to share, and so much to look forward too.”
“Fuck you,” Tay spat through fresh blood, the effort to hold back a scream of agony sacrificing the tender flesh of her lower lip. “Fuck both of you.”
An indrawn hiss of Rage and misery whistled through blood smeared teeth as Agaru, embodied in An'Thaya, lunged for him, "Then you are THRICE damned for KNOWING what you would unleash and walking through the flames willingly...and for not warning her fully of what price there would be to pay."
Callan watched with cold malice as she was jerked back, "You accomplished nothing but save one life at the expense of countless others..."
The facade of cold, calculating hate went up in an explosion of fury and Rage as Haldanuru slowly crushed the bones of her wing beneath his massive hoof. The broken, near-dead demon still trapped under coils of black tail was snapped into the air, launched at the god that had created it as white-blue flame boiled from his black maw. In the wake of the thrown demon, the Emperor, in full Rage, dove, not for the god, but his captive.
The demon rebounded, caught telekinetically by Haldanuru and tossed back at Callan, catching the Dragon in the side of the head and knocking the massive muzzle off course. In the process the hoof moved off of An’Thaya’s wing and she rolled away, hunkering down near the edge of the flames as the God’s fury unleashed itself above her head.
A loud, surprised and enraged snort exploded out of Callan. White hot flames shot forth from his muzzle in a kiln blast that ignited several remaining veils and tapestries and left them engulfed in raging fire. In his madness, the thought of, who'd have imagined demons could be so horny came to mind as the boney protusions punctured skin and scale to leave him bleeding. Several precious seconds of confused pain rocked the Black back on his heels while his tail lashed violently, an outlet for his body's agony that struck stone columns and left their bases chipped, cracked and beginning to crumble.
Emerald eyes met sea green through the ring of fire, jewels that were once bright and full of fury dulled and filled with hopeless love.
“Galain… go home. Take Adarin and go home. There is nothing you can do here. Take my children behind the wards and just GO."
Galain couldn't speak, nodding only. He'd caught his uncle's arm and pulled him back when Adarin had tried to run forward toward Tay. He had no wish to see the Elen king squashed underfoot by these behemoths.
And he had no desire to lose his children to an enRaged Callan. He knew he couldn't possibly stand up against the Dragon Emperor in his current form unless 'Lain emerged, but the results... he didn't want to tempt fate or the Fates.
"Uncle, we need to get to our children before Callan does," he said urgently. "It's not just my children by Tay that are threatened -- yours and Jaiden's are as well."
At that Adarin threw Galain a wild-eyed look filled with agony.
"We can't just leave her here," he hissed.
"We can and we will," Galain said evenly although inside he was feeling sick and frustrated. "And the more time we waste talking, the sooner Callan can follow through on his promise." The elf threw a dispassionate look toward his friend and shook his head. "He's insane you know."
And then he gave Tay one last, long look.
"I love you," he said. "You will be freed."
With that he turned on his heel, half-dragging Adarin with him. Each step toward the temple's exit felt like a stab to the heart. But Tay had made her choice, the children had not.
For a moment, beneath the winds of Halda’s rage, An’Thaya D’Riel Alcarin almost broke. Tears welled, but did not fall, and her heart cracked. It wasn’t the first time she had given Galain up for his own good, her hand forced by the will of a God.
I love you too…
But she would never be free again. Even if some accident of Fate expelled her from the Nine Hells, the Amazon would always be trapped in a cage of her own making. The series of choices that left her bonded to so many, always torn in one direction or another, never content, never whole.
Then the moment of weakness passed and she stumbled to her feet, a broken wing lying limp at her side as Tay threw her shoulders back and tossed her head, turning to look at the dazed Araxmarr. Her expression was laced with pure venom. Hatred for the creature that threatened her children, and for herself, for those moments after their return from Tenobrous when she had nearly betrayed herself.
Still slightly stunned, Callan shook his massive head to clear it, a motion that sent fat drops of near-black blood spattering the floor and sizzling into the leaping flames. He paused abruptly and slanted his angular head to watch the god and An'Thaya from one phosphorescent blue orb from far over the Amazon's head.
"Isn't that sweet? Aren't you both the most pathetic martyrs?" The words were snarled and hissed from between a mouthful of blood stained, razor sharp teeth, "Enjoy your stay...the pair of you. You'll be far better off than my marks..."
For the barest fraction of a moment, the insanity broke, leaving Callan Blackthorn very much like a drowing man gasping for air and clawing his way to the surface. Beneath the scale of his shoulder, the mark of Agaru's still-fresh bond to him writhed as he plucked helplessly at the the strands of fading crimson, the fraying ropes that tethered him to sanity. Misery tore at his soul and beneath him, the solid stone floor felt like a yawing pit of endless black, a chasm of nothingness so great was his heartbreak. The Grieving Madness was like nothing no other being could be inflicted with; the capacity for self-sacrificing love so deep that had been intended by the gods who'd made both Silver and Black to bind them to their mate, to protect them with their lives and raise their offspring with fierce devotion, had the pitfall of also becoming a self-destruction mechanism.
It came in cycles, the Madness, first the implosion of sorrow and grief, then the Rage, a horrific unbalance of hormones and chemicals released by the brain into the blood stream...and once the Rage was burnt out? Suicide was the best that could happen to surviving mate...and those around them.
The waters began to rise over his head again, his desperate grasp for sanity slipping from him as he realized Haldanuru had toyed with them all, just to hurt them more...and had been triumphant. The realization that THIS would be his last time to see any vestige of his mate, his Agaru, trapped within the body of a broken Amazon slid around his soul like a lead weight, dragging him down despite the fight to stay afloat. The soft footfalls of the two departing elves suddenly sounded like thunder as the Madness seized his soul for the last and final time. The Black's sinuous neck snapped around, his attention riveting on Adarin and Galain, "You'd better run...elves..."
"I know where more of her children are than you do..." In truth, he did not, not at the moment, but between his blood-bond to Melaina and Glory and his new presense on the D'Riel Web, it would be easy enough. His body coiled in on itself as he rocked back on his haunches, preparing to lunge for the doors, "Find them, hide them behind the wards. I got out once...I can get back in..."
A shower of dust and falling debris sprinkled his nose, a sharp crack and the sound of falling stone echoed through the Temple, the supporting columns were giving way, their foundations crumbling from the impact of his bladed tail the cause of their deterioration. Golden daylight began to show through a narrow crack over his head and the Temple groaned, a low sound of the very stones caving in, "Its just a matter of time...time and right...key...for the lock..."
The ceiling collapsed, morter and rubble cascaded down on the Black, bounced heavily off the floor and into the pit of sacred flames. A foundation-shattering howl of laughter and Rage shook the remainder of the Temple of Death as Callan's mighty form unwound like a spring and lept into the destruction for the ever-widening hole overhead. Onyx talons scrabbled at the opening, sent even more pieces of the building collapsing into the god's presence, then he was gone vanished into the glowing sky, his final words filtering back to both the Elen lovers of the Amazon and she herself, "Y'Roden gave me the keys...they cannot be taken back..."
"See you in Nenlante..."
For a moment, An’Thaya wondered who was screaming, till she realized the voice was her own. The instincts of a mother had driven her forward; so desperate to stop Callan she had stepped directly into the flames. What little clothing she wore went up in smoke and fire seared across her skin, it was impossible to tell where the fiery locks began and the circle ended… Sheer agony lanced along every nerve, and then she was yanked back, slamming hard into Haldanuru’s chest, shrieking and utterly mad.
“Now that was foolish,” the God snapped, “look what you’ve done to yourself. That… will take awhile to heal. But, no matter, we will just begin again once you are restored.”
His voice did not even register on the Amazon; her lashless eyes riveted on the hole Callan had disappeared through. It might have been the madness that had suddenly descended upon her, but she could have sworn a flash of scale had gone by. Two black bodies intertwined, one gilded in silver, the other gold. And then, all was plunged into darkness as Haldanuru dragged her back into Hell.
Outside the temple two black dragons smashed into the marble stairs, rolling in an uncontrolled freefall until they crashed into the fountain at the bottom. Foundation cracked and exploded, sending a tsunami of water rushing down the street, lapping at doorways and washing away the spoils of war.
The larger of the two rolled clear, heaving itself to massive clawed feet and lashing a barbed tail as it reared up onto heavily muscled back legs. An undulation of gold essence swept over its great body, leaving the massive Prince of Inligh in its stead. His expression, for once, was hardly benign. Rage, pure and unadulterated twisted the Messenger’s beautiful features as he approached the fallen Dragon Emperor, seemingly unaware of the two blonde elves emerging from the temple somewhere above him.
“Araxmarr Zavern Sar’Da,” the Changeling’s tri-toned voice rang clear, “what you are about to do is not sanctioned by the Fates. I cannot, and will not allow you to slay the children of my charge.”
The barest twitch of Callan's tail and ragged heaves of his chest was all that suggested the Black Emperor still lived. Black wings were splayed wide, pinions broken and punched through leathery hide. Blood ran from every cut as the highly vascular appendages finally rustled, then fell limp again. A slash of topaz glimmered through one eye as it forced itself to open a mere crack. The weight of the other dragon had been far more than its size suggested, the lack of the Pull had left the Emperor wide open for aerial attack and he'd fought the other beast until he'd landed with a thunderous crash on the now crushed fountain.
The waters as they swept down the street and washed up against the Temple steps were tinged scarlet, shadowed with diluted dragon blood. Callan's head lifted, swayed on its long, sinuous neck and the other eye slowly wrenched itself open.
"The Fates," Callan wheezed out, a sound like the low rushing wind that preceeded a hurricane, "Do not dictate..." his form began to collapse until it changed into his half-elven form. On his hands and knees, he struggled to rise, to breathe with broken ribs and damaged organs. One booted foot was dragged under him and he hauled himself to a trembling crouch, "...my actions," the soft sounds of water running off his body accompanied his next words as he drew himself to his feet, "or my life."
Rage still contorted his face, leaving his usual attractive features a horrible, twisted and cruel reflection of his natural appearance. Blood ran from his nose, down his face and dripped slowly off his chin as he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, then spit a mouthful of blood and teeth, knocked free by the impact, on the Changeling's feet.
An mild expression of pain danced across his face as he rolled one shoulder back, twisted his head slowly to the side and up slightly. Vertibrae began crackling their way back into place, as did his dislocated shoulder, "And...may I suggest...I'm sorry? I don't believe I've caught your name, but may I ask why, if your gods damned charge is so important, am I the one who has dragged her to safety more times than I care to count lately?"
Callan's words were oozing poison as he gave a rueful bark of laughter, then was forced to cough blood to clear his throat, "WHY, if you are so worried about that BITCH, are you here? In case you didn't notice," The Emperor drew in a deep breath as damaged flesh and bone reknitted in a wake of healing, "You're a little late to help anyone here..."
Topaz eyes shifted to Galain and Adarin on the steps of the Temple and back to the rather tall, gold eyed two-legger before him...whoever this creature was, he was costing Callan a great deal of time. There was killing to be had, and he'd rather get it done before Adarin and Galain got the bright idea to stop gawking and bolt into Corin.
Chezlar regarded Callan with liquid gold eyes that had suddenly become dispassionate. Dark tendrils of ebony hair whipped about his unmarred features, his appearance maddeningly flawless.
“I am not too late to stop you from harming An’Thaya’s children,” he said calmly, “Light’s Hope makes her own choices. All I have ever done is walk beside her and offered my council. As for whether the Fates dictate your fate, your destiny, or your life… there is where you are wrong.”
An elegant gesture of his hand brought it palm up, his arm straight out in front of him as the Changeling seemed to pull at something no one else could see. The marble beneath Callan’s feet bubbled and writhed, then slowly crept up his form, turning Dragon to stone.
“I am Chezlar Khor… and someday, you will thank me for this.
"Gods! Move!" Galain suddenly shook his head and snapped at his uncle who had been gazing dazedly at the happenings between Chezlar and Callan. "We've just been given the chance of a lifetime!"
The Elen prince opened a portal and shoved Adarin through before following as well.
A white undulation of liquid marble swept up the stairs after the departure of the Elen males, sweeping up over the temple itself, sealing doors and windows, entombing anyone unfortunate not to have left within its hard encasing, rendering them as immobile as the Black Dragon Emperor himself. The sound of the stone hardening was like shifting icebergs grinding off one another, stunningly loud, which made the silence afterwards even more poignant.
The Changeling remained as still as his creation for several moments, then eyed Callan with an appraising look. With quiet deliberation, he knocked on the Dragon’s forehead.
“Just as I thought… thick as a brick.” With a long-suffering sigh he rolled back massive shoulders, “and now… we wait.” With a fluid movement he stepped towards the stairs, following their upward course until he reached the sealed front doors. There was a soft golden shimmer as the Prince of Inligh passed through, and then… there was no sound at all.
The pain never registered, not until it was too late and the sensation of being turned to stone should have been an entirely new horror to one who had spent the bulk of his life dolling out fear and misery.
But it hadn't been.
He'd completely lost the Horizon, the line of balance that was so vital to Blacks and Silvers, creatures of land and sky. It was the line between sanity and complete, absolute madness, the place where one could look, and know who they were. He no longer felt pain, fear, regret or sympathy. He was no longer Callan Blackthorn, no longer the Emperor of the Black Throne. No longer did he walk the delicate edge that separated Light from Dark, Hope from Despair. What Samara could not accomplish by tempting him, Haldanuru had accomplished by taking away from him.
"Chezlar Khor..." The name barely penetrated the fog of hate and Rage. Callan had managed to take one more step before his boots had melded with the liquid stone. The pale marble had embraced his powerful thighs, swept around his torso in rippling tendrils, vines of flesh turning to marble. The anguish of feeling his flesh die and become something else finally drove a yowl of agony from him. The bellowing cry send a flock of birds, doves perhaps, into the air in a rippling, cooing whir of pearl grey wings.
It was like no physical pain he'd ever experienced, a fitting counterpoint to the nightmare of misery his soul had been plunged into with the realization she was gone...and had gone willingly. Stone lanced through him, seizing his lungs, leaving him unable to breathe. It wound through muscle and nerve, stopped his heart, and crept up his neck.
Topaz eyes had glittered with unshed tears, a product of a malestorm of sorrow, hate and Rage as he'd stared directly into Galain and Adarin Alcarin's faces, then shifted beyond them into the forever dark Temple.
She had known...she had too...Agaru had gods damned KNOWN she would take him down with her if she was ever lost. He had told her as much not a full month ago, when they had chosen to be bondmates.
"It means a lifetime together, through battle and blood, life and joy, sorrow and pain...my soul would be bonded to yours, and the loss of you would be the end of me. But that is a chance I take willingly, and I offer you my heart and soul, Agaruloki, to have for eternity..."
Like a man being dragged under the sea by a set of weights just heavy enough to pull him down with terrible, slow deliberation, Callan Blackthorn felt the blessed darkness of death overtake him. The last ability he lost was the Speech...and along it, anyone for miles heard his voice, an odd combination of his draconic basso and warm, half-elven tenor. The emotions of wild despair, gut wrenching heart-break and misery so black and deep he would never find the Horizon again coloured his final words.
"GODS DAMMIT AGARU! YOU LEFT ME HERE! YOU WILLINGLY LEFT ME TO DIE!"
Silence filled the town square, the only sounds made were those of the Messenger as he sealed the Temple, gave his handiwork with Callan one last look, then vanished, leaving only the rushing waters of the fountain and the mournful sounds of the doves to tell the story of what had happened here.
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