“Vipers, I call you, all of you," he hissed, "do you not see the misery you subject them to? Let these souls withdraw from their vessels. Those who are manifestations of despair and let them be.”

There were four gods who had spoken out already, but now that the fifth had arrived, silence fell.

None had noticed him, he who was lurking in the shadow, one who had seen all already.

He hated their happiness, the joy they felt recollecting past events.

He who had only seen sorrow and gloom.

Out he came, interrupting and dispersing the glee that had built up.

Urien, the God of Death, Sorrow, Misery, and Despair.

Tall he was, though skeletal like, but one could see the strength that he bore.

Long hair covered his sad face, hiding the misery and anger he always lived in.

It was as dark as the sunless sky and his clothing, which was bespeckled with golden trinkets made from the remnants of dying stars.

On his shoulder sat a raven. Kavir he was called.

He was to Urien, as Faye was to Alexandra.

A Paragon of death, the only being in all of existence Urien called a companion.

“Vipers, do you hear me?" He repeated, then looked at Alexandra first, “do you not see what you have done to that mortal? As all of you have done many times. You have only given him the chance to die anew, not a chance to redeem what little he had in the first place.“

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Alexandra was less than pleased and wanted to speak up but both Therogrum and Qintoris held her back.

Never had it been a good idea to quarrel with Urien, but he had seen her intent.

“Another chance of death, another chance,“ he said, standing but a pace from her face, “Did you want to punish him? Or did you want to punish me? I am the one he will blame, I am the one that has to take him. I have to take them all. Eternity, I am cursed, twice a soul I will be. Eternity I am bound… to this.“

Though it was rare for a god to cry, one god could not contain his sorrow and, like acid, his tears burned his face.

“Eternity, I am truly sorry. You all know that I am. I am even older than her,“ he gestured at Aralie, ”THEY CURSE HER NOT, BUT THEY DO IN MY NAME," he screamed, "‘Cursed be death for he comes for all of us’ they say. Do they say ‘cursed be the elements for they took the ones I love’? No, not once. ‘Blessed be the rain, for it makes my crops grow. Blessed be the sun and the fire, for they give me warmth.’

The same is for you, oh God of Love. Never do they say ‘take me away from love for it will sure be the end of me’," he mocked even the idea of it.

"Everyone tries to run even from the utterance of my name, but in the end, they come to me, willing or not. It is my doom and it will never stop, for surely they must know that Death can neither stop nor die itself."

With that, the short temper of Therogrum had run out. He stood up and said, “It is not our fault that it is you who is death, neither is it your fault I am war. I nor you can change what we are.“

“You say that. You can at least do me the kindness to not add to my misery but I would expect nothing from you. Is your only purpose is to make me suffer? To make them suffer? You are the worst of all, oh great God of War.

You who do not even remember the name of your favored mortal.

Lokeron was his name. I remember him well when you do not.

In his first life, he spat at me when I had to take him, even though it was his choice to search for death.

You, who abandoned him when he did not search for you in his second life.

He who did me the kindness of abstaining from me for as long as he could and did not blame me again when he breathed his last breath a second time.

How did it feel when even one you admired turned from you?

Could you imagine eons where all loathed you?"

The hall was filled with silence.

"In the end of all, you will see," the god of death said, then left.