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So the years passed, and we grew, and with us grew our mischief. Gone were the troublesome children, to two handsome lads, to two finer men. We could have had our choice of women, for our fair words and fairer looks won the heart of any maiden. We used to amuse ourselves greatly with this power we held over women, charming them, and then laughing at the other's stories. We had vowed that we would never lose our friendship for a woman. Till she came...

Ahh, Desma. No finer sea-elf had ever been born. Her beauty was said to have won an elder's heart with one look of her emerald green eyes. Her silken tresses, and her rosy lips were the subject of many a poem. She had the beauty of a silver-elf, a princess at that. Aluadin and I immediately fell in love with her, and though we had vowed that we shall never fight over a woman, we fought over her. Curse her, for if we had known that her beauty was only a visage to hide a terrible creature within, maybe we would not have argued.

We fought. Oh, how we fought over her. First, we would only use words, soon, we would use our fists. Almost overnight, the wonderful friendship that has bloomed for many a century was destroyed. Desma. Even as I think of all the pain she has caused, I still remember my ferocious love for her, even though she did not return my love. Aluadin and I tried our best. Back then, I was sure I would win her favours, for my title and my wealth would ensure it. Oh, how could I be so foolish. Even a single rose, and the right word, can have more effect that a thousand crystal roses. Aluadin won her heart, and the call to marriage was heard. The wedding was set, and the invitations given out.

As soon as I heard, my heart seemed to freeze in my chest, till it's iciness made me shiver. Even then, as I read the invitation, fires started to burn on the paper. This was not good I thought, even as I watched the paper get burned. This was not good at all.

An old saying in Khalithia says, "He who does not control the casting, allows the casting to control him, and like the sea, magic is volatile. At a moment, it can be mellow, and in the other, it can be deadly." Oh, I should have listened to it. But the call of power was too strong, my magic had seen the chance to be used, and it siezed it. I sat in my study, plotting, plotting, revenge. Then I had it, and an icy smile came to my lips, and a sweet taste filled my mouth, bittersweet. Twas the taste of blood, but with honey. I had bitten my tongue in icy victory, for I knew my plan was infallible, but the honey? Where did it come from? Daethorn? Maybe. I do not know.

<Read On....>