>>6253436

So did I, sister, Celaeno rubs her finger through the glowing cloud. Oh, how have I thirsted to see the light in our eldest’s eyes again. But she slumbers still. No matter. When the key is turned and the lock is broken, he will restore us all. To our rightful place — then we shall all bow at his feet, as it is deserved. As it is his want. As it is his delight.

Sister! Your words are like a balm. How have I yearned for his touch again! Taygete keens, wailing at the empty sky.

So empty are the nights without him. But soon it shall be like it used to be of old, sister.

A vicious grin spreads on Taygete’s features, twisting her gorgeous face into that of a vindictive justiciar. As of old! When the sun was just another star.

So it used to be. So it shall be again. The Interloper will be drawn in chains before his throne, and this time, oh, sister! This time not even his beloved heart will bleed for her.

A mistake made once already.

And never again. Be at ease, sister. Our cold summer draws to an end. We make mistakes not.

We are Kiengir.

With those words, the glowing cloud fades, leaving only a dark lantern, which falls on the gravel and crashes.
Similar fate for the man’s body.
One by one, with a humid squelch, each of the arms and each of the legs detach, scurrying away into the darkness, chasing after some dark burrow where to rest in wait for the joyous work. Then the torso, as a fifth piece.
And finally, as a sixth, for the Seven are now short a member, and they shall use all of their wisdom and all of their wit, scraping the barrel of their craftiness empty, until they have devised all sort of fitting punishments for those who took him away from them, and them away from him — as a sixth, the head skitters away as well.
Nothing gets left behind, all of it finding its joyous purpose.
For they are Kiengir.
And they make waste not.

[cont.]