“Yazad…” she strained at her chains, her head leaning pitifully toward Mithras. “Yazad…” she said again, her once-fearsome, wicked eyes now pleading for death. “Yazad…sajcodayati me. Thanatos,” she said, straining to bare her chest, tears running down her time-worn cheeks.
“I have milked her for ages,” the Carpathian laughed, and stretched, and flexed his black body, towering over Mithras.
The Lord of Light looked back to the Carpathian. He did not care anymore for his treachery of the Daevas, or the slaughter of the Cattle of the Sun on the sandy plains of the world between the sacred rivers.
Mithras cared for the lives of his soldiers, their families. He felt sadness for the loyal, brave mortals on the ground in pain about him, for the two children a few feet away who were born of his
