In a damp cell below the Citadel, Christill sat on a wooden bench staring blindly into space. "Thibalt. What have I done?" he said to himself. The cell contained only the bench that he was resting on and a small blanket. There were no windows and only one small iron door. Christill could sense the magical barriers that had been placed in the room, but had no doubt that if he worked hard enough he could find a way out of this prison. The powers at his disposal were stronger than he could have ever imagined and he knew that were he to spend a few moments to learn from them, he could walk out of the cell unharmed.
Yet what good would that do? His entire plan had been to speak with Skiye and without the aid of one of the goddesses disciples he would have no chance of doing this. Elephtheria was still his best chance, but there would be no way for him to get near her.
The strongest feeling of helplessness that he had ever known engulfed him and Christill felt like crawling into the corner. He wondered what was happening to Friedrich and Vrill, his friends who he had pulled into this whole disaster. Would they be executed because of his decisions? Would they have been better off in Duathnin? The guilt was too much to bear. He sunk his head into his hands and cried out in anguish, "Nyrune, I have failed you. Forgive me."
Christill sat in silence and slowly a word repeated itself in his mind. Now that there was nothing around him he could think of nothing else but the single word that Nyrune had spoken before she had been consumed.
He looked up, realising that there was a great importance to this word and wished more than ever that he had his old mentor Dievu with him.
"Kahnustus!" he said over and over again, the word echoing maliciously from the cold stone walls of Christill's cell.
EPILOGUE
A BITTER NIGHT IN DARGON
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 143
