Desmotti-  So Colorless…the great empty hard pan…Fire the warmth that holds our gaze…Soon the hour cometh when the warmth I feel from Suns great rays…

Haunt-  Always speaking aloud…old King?  Companions none…at least nearby…all thy questions wrapped with question… what answer truly satisfies?

 Desmotti-  Windless night… still whispers insistent… contemplate this Worm and fire…nothing more…than mindless insight?  Spit thy venom lest I tire.

 Haunt-  Boredom…Always! Insightful Cunning, reaches all even the shade…Like Moth to Flame we hover closely, hoping one will call our name.

 Desmotti-  To be remembered…Trivial, vain…yet who would care to call thy name?...Some faceless haunt that stalks the pan…in search of One…some lonely Man?

 Continue- Thou Seekest audience…perhaps acknowledge stories long past gone and buried?  Never once does shadow glide on mortal plane lest message carried…

 Haunt-  Oh the wisdom strikes a pang… for in His wisdom…highly holds thee…Mortal infant if thou be…  He beckons Thee to come to He…that rules all Pitch and Twilight plane…he longs to understand The name…that holds the key to sweet Calibri…Art thou He?  The Great Desmotti?

 Desmotti-  Many seek communication with departed…intertwined…but…only souls that serve each other…converse through tendril as two combined.

 Haunt-  Doth Thee know of Servitude?  No gratitude is shown the Shade…cursed to traverse all lonely nights…To Feel Bright Suns….Abide One Day…

 Desmotti-  Sickly Shade who doth Dark bidding…bid ill willed in secret shame…pitiful servant of Pitch and Plain…Why doth thou serve Othalius Cain?

 Haunt-  Pang…it burns…thy wisdom stabs!  I gnash for I cannot escape- though One could open up to us…how quickly shade could take on Shape?

 Desmotti-  Resist the urge shade lest I banish…words that bind come quick to mind…I hear your sorrow…I care but little…existence, yours, so frail and brittle.

 Haunt-  I see the reason for His desire- to take Thee from thy warming fire…Thou, quick with wit…Supernal gift…bring hope to Woe…Cain desires lift…

 Continue-  Downfall!  Clearly this risk is great…to tempt the rules, so bound by fate…Could very well bring down the gate…and free all they so bound by hate.

 Desmotti-  I would sooner slit my mortal throat and drown by millstone deep at sea…then help perdition make a home…to roam where mortal men are free…

 Continue-  In truth the fire it builds inside…and hate it stirreth words to bind… Shade, get Thee hence and tell thy Master…Calibris Tendril…not for his kind!