The World Hater knew that Elan had discovered the invasion. The day the Hater had long anticipated could no longer be forestalled. The wound in his shoulder had not healed, and the fight would come before it could.

He hurried through the back streets to the stable where his horse and armor waited.

He took a large sword hanging there and placed the edge against the emery stone. He pumped the treadle and the stone revolved. The steel bled sparks.

His great black horse tossed his head and snorted. He was ready for the contest that his master would soon begin. The Prince of Mirrors hated Terra and would be glad to see it burn. Still he wondered where he would go when the object of his hate had perished in the crematorium of war.

He turned the other edge of the blade upon the wheel. Again blue sparks leaped into the dark.

The door burst open and the fugitive Dreamer beheld the Prince’s work.

“Can this be? The Prince of Mirrors preaches peace and sharpens swords! You cannot win! I left Lifeland six days ago. Ansond’s wounds have healed and your torn flesh still gapes. The battle you began with Ansond you must finish with the Troubadour himself, World Hater!”

“Why must you use my former name?” the Prince of Mirrors said.

“It is the only name you ever really had.”

“I’ll kill you, Dreamer, and the world will bless me for your execution,” the Hater spoke with force.

“Will not Terra think it odd that he who preaches peace kills those who disobey the doctrine of the glass?”

“Look!” the Dark Prince cried. “Come wear the chain and seal. Look …” he repeated pulling a mirror from his tunic. “In this glass lies the hope. Behold your face and live.”

Dreamer tore the mirror from the titan hand and the giant could not stay his force. The Hater quickly grasped the sword and sent it singing through the air.

“Lower, and you may take my head,” shouted Dreamer, “but you would only have it till the morrow. For then death itself will be forever dead, and your spell of terror will be done.”

Dreamer felt the inner courage of the great Invader. “Beware, World Hater. I have seen your adversary and he is mighty. And your poor horse cannot withstand Light-Raider. The War of Fire has come. Tomorrow you begin a kind of dying never to be dead. It is your final day to make this world afraid. It is this world’s last night. You cannot win!”

“I beat him once upon the wall!” screamed the World Hater.

“Another lie to fit another face! You were beaten then just as you were beaten in the Court of Lifeland. You wear the festered wound. Tomorrow you will lose the third and final time.”

The Dark Prince hated him for knowing of his defeats. His face contorted with the hatred he had masked so well in messages of love and peace. The sword blade flashed in the lantern fire.