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[Merci d'Rue]

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With this gift the gate cracked further.. a dark shadow falling from it...the mountains had awoken.

A skeleton straggled by the meadhall and Merci smiled her eyes drifting to the two snowmen. Like children, were the true believers, Forsaken by their own people, but reborn as the Chosen... She recalled the prophecy and how each day it rang true closer and closer they marched to that which no one.. no one... could understand.

They were wild, unpredictable, no one knew just what to do anymore around them, were they friend or foe, would they stand strong or bend. What paramount of irony awaited this corrupted world.

The Snowmen stepped back as she approached the present. She could feel it, it called to her, she ached to touch it. The energies lifted her, wave after wave drawing her deeper into what she was. She let out a moan the energy washing over her stronger, pulsing thru her body. She writhed now as the dark light held her toying with her, touching some deep part of her. Transformed she would always be..A Warrior..always death, always blood, always battle. Blood ran from her mouth dripping brilliantly in the white snow.

Festering pockets of Maggots, betray my gift..I am older than time. No fickle entity can stop what I am, I am everything...to your nothing. The words hung in the air they screamed in her head but they were not hers they belonged to something much deeper much stronger than all this.

Sweet music, filled her as she cried out for them, the lost children, as she wept as she transformed. Wolves chimed in spattering broken fragments of song becoming a single united voice. Singing for their King. Now was the time of the blade, the weapon. The stone was cradled in her arms as she floated there held oddly in almost another plane staring out understanding so much more now.

The return of the Sepulcher stone filling her. It was part of her... she belonged to it. The Sepulcher Stone became heavy and fell to the ground below her, her dress tore away, revealing tight armour, her blue eyes darkened and her hair like the midnight sky wavered in the dark light. The statement clear.

This stone, belongs with the other, divided but one. Her feet touched the ground she was no longer in front of the Meadhall but perched in front of the Shrine stone. The Shrine Stone, The Sepulcher Stone.

It was now done. The voids of her eyes turned to look down upon Malas. Her weapon filled with cold energy clutched tightly in her hand.
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May destiny guide you...