(no subject)

[merrimanlyon]

The fire flares brightly in the hearth, casting tangled shadows across the flagstones of the great hall beyond the Doors. There is a fierceness and an almost single-minded intensity to the blaze -- mirroring, in a sense, the fierceness and single-minded intensity in the eyes of the Old One who stares into the blaze.

Or perhaps he is staring through the blaze, at something beyond it that he alone can see.

The unpleasant encounter with his opposite number had been brief, but even half a mortal second in the Black Rider's presence had been long enough for Merlion to realise the gravity of the situation. Any breach of the barrier was cause for alarm. Any violation of the Law of the High Magic....

...well, that was the heart of the problem. For the Rider had violated no Law -- yet. He would be extremely careful to tread within the boundaries until the right moment, and then -- then, in all likelihood, it would be too late.

Where, when, how?

The age-old questions. He had been asking himself those self-same questions for longer than mortal minds could comprehend, and the answer never appeared at his bidding.

Outside Time, the Oldest of the Old Ones gazed into a roaring fire that gave off no heat and made no sound.