Now he attacks without mercy, without motive, the only living being able to move freely between the seven dark dominions. Without wings, he slipped loose from the tethers that bound him within the light and he fell screaming to earth. Six and sixty times his wings were branded, until only smoking stumps remained. Six times his name was tolled from the great bell of Vashundol. Bearing away souls on the tip of a fiery sword, he is the Fallen One, a once-favored general from the realm behind the light, cast out for the sin of defiance: he would not kneel. He that burns and is not consumed, devours and is never sated, kills and is beyond all judgment-Lucifer brings doom to all who would stand against him.
