Pilgrim had expected to enjoy the sight of Book’s demise, but, as the glowing red letters appeared on his balding pate, burning their way down to the bone beneath as he shrieked his lungs empty, he found it pitiful. The scale of the man’s delusion had been colossal, to think he could pray a being like this out of existence. He was more a mad man than a fanatic, and the mad should be pitied, however well deserved their end.

The voice spoke up as Book spasmed and died, still held upright by the Mad God’s will. Are you getting sentimental, my liege?

Book’s body flew away as the man in the black robe focused his gaze on the spot where Pilgrim and Seeker crouched behind a pillar. “Come out!” the Mad God commanded. “I would know who has brought an exile into my domain.”

Well, the voice sighed as Pilgrim stepped into view. This is awkward.

The man in the black robe spared Pilgrim a brief glance before fixing his eyes on the sword on his back. “Hello, Lakorath,” he said.

My lord, the voice replied.

The Mad God beckoned them closer, Pilgrim seeing little option but to comply. Seeker followed a few steps behind as he approached, halting a few paces from the pool of piss left by Book. Glancing to the right, Pilgrim saw the Risen priest’s body crumpled into the base of a pillar, smoke still rising from the letters seared into his scalp.

“One of the seven cursed blades,” the Mad God said, Pilgrim turning back to see his gaze still fixed on the sword. He gave a small shake of his head accompanied by a minuscule laugh. “So, this was your fate when the Triumvirate banished you from the Infernus. I would find it pitiable if it hadn’t been so richly deserved.”

I assure you the price of my transgressions has been paid in full, the voice replied. Many times over.

“And yet you remain locked within that trinket and in thrall to this mortal.” The Mad God’s eyes flicked to Pilgrim in contempt. “Or did you somehow contrive to trick him into coming here? Were you so keen to renew our acquaintance?”

I didn’t know who exactly the Mad God was until this moment. I suspected you might be a demon of the Second or Third Circle. To find the greatest warlord of the First Circle here is shocking, I must say. Did they exile you too, I wonder?

The Mad God’s face twitched in faint annoyance. “Don’t test me, Lakorath. Millennia may have passed but my regard for you has not changed.”

Pilgrim felt the sword shift on his back, as if squirming. He took considerable note of the fact that the voice remained silent.

“You,” the Mad God snapped, looking again at Pilgrim. “I assume you came to beg for something. What is it?”