*Polgara walks over to belthazar with a glowing hand but it's not glowing white it's glowing black* here this is for you *she opens her hands and gives the light to him*
sorry about the fish thing
What eternal hand of eye, what limitless imagination, could concieve the pangs of immortal life? An eternity of broken dreams. A place where once I died. what divine-concieved design, could match a mortal life? A wry and rapt mortality. A life played out in sounds, of weeping, screaming sighs. Is this when the night comes down? The Shadow in us all, that ebbs and flows with ignorance...