In that place, between death and reality, where dreams are made, Prag'Mal'Dora saw a vision.
It was a view of the ocean, something she had rarely seen in life, that stretched from horizon to horizon. The waters were at once as deep and blue as the night sky, as well as shimmering scarlet as if a layer of blood floated atop it. In the centre of this sea, there was an island...
No...
As the sun rises, and the light catches on glinting metal, it is revealed to be a pile of bodies, both living and dead; wearing the suits of armour of mercenary cavalry, wrapped in assassin's cloaks and cowls, or dressed as civilian's who have taken up arms in desperation. The living stood upon each other shoulders, and they stood on a seabed of the dead and dying, and at the apex of this mountain of flesh...
A familiar snake coils atop the mound, body bristling with weapons numerous and well-used, sheathed but ready. That damnable black eye is glittering defiantly at the horizon, at the world beyond that would threaten what she has sought to build.
"Something beautiful."
Praggy hardly recognized her own voice, it was tired and flat, and most of all sounded more like paper being crushed in someone's fist. Much like Perendi, her throat was constricted and weeped blood as she spoke, barely audible over the rain. She turned her remaining eye to look upon her killer, who fate had favoured in the end. The yellow orb wept liquid as always, but this time the book's contents matched it's cover, there was emotion to match those tears.
An old and weak voice crackles up from the ogre's throat, "Little... Pearl... This haven you wish to build, I have seen it." She coughs, her one ragged lung quivering uselessly.
"A place for those wearied by senseless violence, yet founded upon war..." She slowly and painfully turns to regard the woman that, after everything, has elected to listen, to show mercy.
"You asked me to join you, but child..." Praggy's tongue stills as she feels a rain drop slide down her blistered face and into her mouth, sweet as anything she had ever tasted.
She resumed speaking, "The future you wish to build, it is not founded on greed, nor wrath or pride, or lust for anything. Unlike so much of humanity you are without true sin, yet are cursed all the same. But I must tell you the truth, despite this-" Praggy's damaged right hand clutches at Perendi's shoulder, her left one still unable to release the sword melded into her grip. "-to me, and to the Night Mother, virtuous or sinful, when all is said and done you all die the same, you all go down the same, delicious."
The Old Butcher tries a wicked smile but the muscles aren't working, and the bittersweet cackle that follows this revelation quickly devolves into a sickly wet cough.
"This paradise you'll make for yourself and for those like you... It is no place for a monster like me. The Night Mother proposes that all mortal life should be as a flock for her Family to tend, to be used to sate her children's hunger and nothing more. But your nation of soldiers, of strength and steel, violates that." Praggy's eye dims slowly at having revealed this truth unto the soldier before her, as she continues:
"So this is farewell, little snake. My home resides halfway up the smallest of the Terrin mountains, on it's easternmost slopes. If you have the courage to venture there, my hoard of silverware is yours, to fund your dream, to realise your will, that was so much stronger and more brilliant than mine... It must have been to defeat me."
With an appropriate sense of finality and detachment, she uses the fingers of her right hand to peel her left off of Perendi's baselard, asking "Bring me my cleaver, so I might fight the demons where I am surely going. And know this... all the suffering you feel, all the pain of still being here when there is nothing left for you, all of it can be washed away. I know the Family would accept you with open arms, once your misguided sense of justice leaves you... But perhaps, your ideals are greater, will challenge the Family..."
The ogre regarded her death one last time, before holding out the sword by the blade for the human to take. With the two working fingers of her right hand, in a two fingered point, she mutters "You're pretty good, snake." before her arm falls by her side, and the fire leaves her eye, leaving her body stiff and upright on its knees.
A limping giant fox, pelt forever stained grey not only by ash but also it's venerable age, enters the clearing, a growl low in it's throat at the blackened corpse in the centre, before disregarding the dead monster and lying down on its belly. It places its head between its fore paws, and closes its eyes, seemingly comfortable with the clearings one other occupant.
Both fled from the fire the ogre started, and both were bloodied and injured by it. Not only that, but both had recognized the necessity of attacking such a foe, and had both slain her. It was only natural it not mind her presence, as the rain falls thickly around the three figures.