The last of the beautiful light streamed down the river after the Ligniss had plunged into the navy water. Hidden from the final darkness, it would reemerge whence needed the most in the height of Darkness' reign.
Onboard were the final Arkknights, a co-heir to the Chancellery, a robot, and an incompetent knight-eater in a sealed salama room in rock slumber
***
There were several seals on the Tomb of the Plague.
Some of them religious, the blood of early martyrs staining the otherwise pure white marble;
some of them military, the sacrifices of thousands of men and women to the sword apparent on the muhuri itself;
some being scientific, impenetrable steel and electrical wires defending the exit.
But none of it was enough to stop Her.
Ismene, the Liberator. Ismene, the upinde wa mvua Walker. Ismene, the End.
It wasn't immediate, breaking of the seals, but, like a river breaking down a rock, the all the same fell to Her sword.
Awakened kwa the sudden unbalance on Ultima’s, and the final signal aliyopewa kwa the Chancellor, Ismene began her first and final task;
Liberate the Plague of the Underworld to onyesha the ones not on the Overlands the lesson of the ancients.
Ismene went on Her work, every siku driving Her sword deeper into the seals, and imba the song She remembered; the Hymn of Judgment.
Dreadfully aware of the deaths that would occur if She completed Her task, but barely phased kwa the idea of blood-red blotches covering the skin of the inhabitants of the doomed nation, She continued.
At night, Bayutan rumbled with the Plague's cries of anguish, and Ismene felt for the trapped beasts, knowing Herself of the trials of being caged.
Sen, mas seew, sen thine Tartour exink,
Soon, my sweet, soon your torture will end,
Es thine Tartour en mine Tartour,
Your pain is my pain,
Sen, mas seew, sen thine Regutarr an Hadum,
Soon, my sweet, soon your oppressors shall perish,
Und Ine, wis thim.
And I, with them.