"The strength of your hatred is wondrous," the thing had gloated, and well she knew it then and knows it still.

To see this sort of rage and menace in another, like this, is a marvelous thing.

(he would have

now you could

twist

corrupt

together you could)

And yet, for the first time in a long, long while, a dim and guttering spark within her flickers, and she finds it a disturbing one.

(but he--

--he's the only one who--

--if I did--

--I don't want)


"Oh, cariad," she says, at last, softly amazed. "How strange a thing it is. I believe you would."