In indignation or yearning, Esmer hissed, “You are demented. I know not how you have won free. I care not. But do you dream that you are able to reason with She Who Must Not Be Named?”

Covenant kept his back to Esmer. He had no attention to spare. No attention—and no time.

“You’ve forgotten who you are!” he called up at the eternal being. “But that’s not all. You’ve forgotten who trapped you here! It wasn’t the Creator. He loved you then. He loves you now. And it sure as hell wasn’t us. Or any of your other victims. It was the Despiser. A-Jeroth of the Seven Hells.

“You’ve forgotten that he made you like this. You’ve forgotten that he tricked you. He’s your worst enemy, but you serve him because you’ve forgotten!”

Faced with Covenant’s audacity, the bane writhed as though his words were blows. Tortured visages in wild succession bared their teeth and shrieked and vanished, rolled under or absorbed.

In a voice so immense that the cavern itself seemed to shout, She answered, “You speak to me! You speak to me! I will devour you—I will devour you all—and gain no ease for my hunger! If I fed upon worlds, I would not be sated!”

Gritting his teeth, Covenant refused to admit that he was appalled. “You aren’t listening!” he countered as if he were fearless. “You should. You should at least notice that the Despiser has made you his lackey.”

Fires danced and gibbered. “Do you think to resist me?” With every countenance, the bane sneered. “Then do so. I revel in the struggles of my viands.”

Covenant shook his head. His voice echoed her vehemence. “I said, listen to me. I’m not going to fight you. Of course I’m not going to fight you.” Even he might not be able to overcome Esmer’s ability to suppress wild magic. And if he succeeded, the consequences might be disastrous. A battle on that scale would wreak vast havoc. It might breach the Arch of Time. But he had other hopes for his ring. “I just want to show you something.”

“Show?” retorted his antagonist. “You wish to show? If I have forgotten what or who I am, I have forgotten the import of any mere object or display.”

“Not this, you haven’t.” With the back of his halfhand, Covenant lifted his ring. “You’ll recognize it as soon as you look.” His passion for Linden and the Land and life skirled among the flames: it seemed to resound from the pronged vault of the cavern. “I’m not talking about white gold or wild magic. I’m talking about what it is. A wedding band. It’s a symbol of everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve ever lost.