Qhan of the Vahla
“Good.”
A pause in which the balance hung. A breathless moment.
But the titan smiled then, a faye and terrible expression and in his eyes shown a madness that rivaled her own. He laughed, mirth cruel and rich and deep as thunder.
For by her words Mercy had spared them all the awaiting inferno above, the hellstorm of turbolaser fire from his ships which might have smote this place and carved it from the surface of the planet in reaping flame.
“Good.”
Then he turned upon his heel and with a finger struck the air. The air shimmered. Cracked. Reality tore asunder as a gateway ripped open, howling the winds of the Nether.
The Qhan of Qhans stepped through and reality closed behind him, leaving nothing of his trace save the sour taste in the mouths of those in the throne room and a brother’s fury which smoldered still.