Isolda, the bride of Lucifer, cannot be his. There is no more fear. One by one. Many places to hide. Though infinite paths, Isolda escorts him with her minions to her private cave, the Lover’s Cave. Take comfort.Sleep. His voice, Tristan’s voice, his own breaking voice calls back to him: I know it IS you…I KNOW it is you…I know it is YOU… Over and over throughout this cavern it echos, as if Tristan were the cavern, if a body were a room and a voice a body. He knows she is here, among many. The tavern where he would sleep was a three hours’ walk down. Not for days, or weeks or forevermore will I release this power that compels me, the power that compels you to me, I, Tristan, the greatest lover you have ever known, or will have ever known, that any will ever know,
At this, the cavern is shaking. Those who had fallen. No echo follows her voice. The dragon, Mab, whips down, away from on high, sinking her fangs into the youth’s left shoulder. They were now sitting in two chairs by the fire. A laughter that crushes souls—no longer recalling for what purpose they are borne.
