The Fate of Ysiwena.
They were wise and powerful warriors, and alone they were capable of defeating entire armies. The combined force of their magic did not even touch the flesh of Galbert, and their weapons did not even scratch him. The Lord of Death was the greatest warrior who had ever existed, powerful amongst mortals in a way that had never been possible before. His dance was simple and elegant, his sword killed the three captains, the last of whom fell infuriated to the ground, clutching his cut throat. The gaze of the lord moved upwards, and then came down to rest on the lake. Around him, his troops were finishing off the last of the Birthkind who had opposed his plans. Raising his evil sword, Galbert invoked the power it held and thrust the black blade strongly into the life-bringing water.
The water boiled and bubbled, while foul steam arose from it and the bottom of the lake turned into corrupting black slime. The stain of evil spread through the water, darkening the crystalline liquid. The stain spread to the base of the tower, growing while the lightening of the storm and the sounds of battle thundered, splintering the crystal door. Galbert walked inside, and climbed the stairs while the tower was consumed from the bottom up, its surface becoming scaly and oily. With each step he took and each step he climbed he came closer to his goal. Galbert had killed with his own hands the few powers of light that had opposed his designs. He was death and was approaching life to smother it and destroy it. His breast heaved with longing, and his eyes watched the doors that gave access to the rooms occupied by the Lady of Life. He was enjoying her suffering in advance, and took delight in desperation.
He knocked the door from its hinges with a blow of his hand, and strode firmly into the unsullied room. His gaze sought the Lady of Life. A figure was silhouetted against one of the windows. Slim and beautiful, dressed in white cloth and gold armbands, she was waiting for him. Galbert strode over to the woman. When he reached her, the corruption spread swiftly across the walls, while it withered the gardens and destroyed the charm of the most sacred of places. The woman was holding a white rose and was looking at the floor. Her hair flowed over her face and shoulders, and her hands were trembling slightly.
The Lord of Death approached his nemesis. For long moments he delighted in her defeat, in the stain of black corruption that surrounded her, moving closer and closer to her delicate feet. While death encircled her destiny and the threads of life left her, Eeilina, Princess of the Roses and Lady of Life, raised her face and looked with her iridescent eyes at Galbert.
And the Lord of Death saw neither fear nor anger in her eyes, and noticed that a single tear was running down her cheek. While Eeilina turned into a black rock, an onyx statue in the midst of a burning and corrupted city, Galbert saw that she was crying out of pity for him. In silence he put out his hand and while the pale pink cheeks turned to sinister black he plucked off the tear she had shed. For the first time since he had felt the power of death in his blood, Galbert looked at someone with fear in his eyes.
The first drops of rain fell among the flames of a thousand fires while the savages yelled. The pitiless Selaen spread out along the walls, and the butchery lasted for three days and three nights, while heaven cried for the death of the Lady of Life. During these three days, Galbert, Power of Death and the Lord of all the Armies of Nuimbra, did not move from where he stood, his hand firmly closed around the tear.