"You killed him."
Baru's voice came from behind him, but Mortarion did not particularly care. He answered calmly, "Yes. I told you from the beginning that I would kill him."
"You told me, but I didn't expect you would actually do it."
Baru gripped the wooden staff Grandfather had bestowed upon it, standing warily atop the Creep, guarding against Mortarion's attack. It made no effort to hide its caution; that distrust even spilled over in its voice. Yet Mortarion did not care at all. He did not even turn around.
"Grandfather will be very angry with you."
"Do I look as though I would care about His so-called wrath?"
Baru fell silent.
Yes, Mortarion would not care. It had heard the conversation between Mortarion and Typhus, every single word. That meant the man standing opposite it had now utterly turned his back on Grandfather.
Traitors were shameful.
It should have swung its wooden staff and used the power within the Garden to kill him. Yet, for reasons it did not know, Baru was slow to act. The demon held the proof of its love for its grandfather, stayed silent for a long time, and only then spoke its next words.
". . . You promised you would help me."
"Yes."
"Was that a lie too? Just like when you once said you loved Grandfather?"
"I never said I loved Him, and what I said to you was not a lie, Baru. I will help you reach him, but I hope you understand one thing—"
Mortarion finally turned around. He raised a hand and tore away the rotting flesh hanging from his chin. Pale bone was exposed to the air, and the germs greedily surged in, wanting to add a few more measures of pain to his bones. In just a