Synopsis I saw her, hanging in the sky like a flake of the moon. A woman, her face masked by a black shireen, her body by a black shift, but her white arms spread and her white, bone white hair blowing all around her like a flame composed of smoke, Recognition was immediate.

I shouted at her: “Your son, Ettook’s warrior! Do you like what you have made of me? I might have been a prince in Eshkorek Arnor, or in Ezlann. I might have been a king with a great army at my back, beautiful women to please me, and Power to make all men do as I wished. Do you like what you have made?”

It was crystal clear to me, what he had meant for me, my father Vazkor, what she had robbed me of. An d I drew from my belt my hunting knife and threw it at her heart.