[center][@Seraphin][/center]
[center][@Dartbored Fairy]Arrival at the catacombs.[/center]

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[center][h1][color=92278f]Like a Moth to the Flame[/color][/h1][/center]
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[indent]“Ones damnation isn’t a result of the blind denial of good, it’s the deliberate rejection of good; the embracing of evil.” These words of Mada resounded in Devlin’s mind while Ren’s story conjured images that stirred a heated broth within the crusted walls of her heart. Before Ren even finished his testimony, she already knew she would one day remove the blemish of Krias and Maard’s existence from the world. Regardless, she said nothing in respect to the fact, though it should have been possible for Ren to observe the ink-black cloud churning in her eyes, her inscrutable lack of expression unchanging. 

Ren’s final attempt at humor notwithstanding, Devlin’s now droned voice exuded the only, though cryptic, reply she had;

“A moth unburnt by the alluring flames of necessity.”   

It didn’t really matter to Devlin what meaning Ren found in those words, for she had no intention to appease him. Providing him solace would have been like trying to comfort a mother who had lost her only son to death. It would have likely been received with a sense of redundant antipathy. For Devlin, however, the meaning behind what she said was clear: Vanquishing evil from the world would, in the end, probably come at the cost of her life. But all honorable deeds require sacrifice – death was a small price to pay for retribution – and it may have been this knowledge alone that caused Devlin to foresee her possible fate with Ren; the yet undefined events that would ultimately lead to Ren taking her life for sake of a greater good… and with it the restoration of that which was stolen from him. 

The thought of this possible outcome, unfortunately, conflicted with Devlin’s prior decision to bear Ren’s child. When she and Ren then stepped out from the trees and Devlin laid eyes upon the entrance to the catacombs, the resulting dilemma produced a look of rage as violet currents of electricity crossed her lips like sutures. 

Nearby, a short, sharp crackling sound was heard, drawing attention to the charred remains of a moth that spiraled to the ground in a thin trail of smoke.[/indent]