Sobe the Poisoner has made a drop of poison which will create beauty and death. In the soul of its victim these two monsters meet and strive against each other. Immortal beauty and death remain clutched in a stifling caress. The poison, as it works upon its victim, renders her more radiant and beautiful each moment, and each moment it paralyses her heart.
Maldor
And then what happens?
Sobe
Bereft of life, but with a beauty which must resist death, the tortured one remains my own. Thus with my poison I become death’s master. Thus that which should die, does not die. Thus death advancing creates a flame which it cannot stifle.
Maldor
Beware.
Sobe (speaks with quickened emphasis)
Death is my slave. I summon him. I open a jewelled gate which he cannot pass.
Maldor (speaks softly)