“They are old,” Kossil’s voice said, not loud, a whistling thread of sound out of the depths of the cowl. “They are old. Their worship is forgotten, save in this one place. Their power is gone. They are only shadows. They have no power anymore. Do not try to frighten me, Eaten One. You are the First Priestess; does that not mean also that you are the last?… You cannot trick me. I see into your heart. The darkness hides nothing from me. Take care, Arha!”
