The ghost of the Ceda spoke. ‘Errant, you think to challenge the Warrens? Do you not realize that, as the Tiles once had a Master, so too the Warrens?’ ‘Don’t be a fool,’ the Errant said. ‘There are no tiles describing these warrens—’ ‘Not Tiles. Cards. A Deck. And yes, there is a Master. Do you now choose to set yourself against him? To achieve what?’ The Errant made no reply, although his answer whispered in his skull. Usurpation. As a child before one such as myself. I might even pity him, as I wrest from him all power, every drop of blood, his very life.
