"You hold the cure already," Khloros rasped. "You have created it, you have the power as I do, over life and death itself. The ability to control... or to cleanse, the legion of life that strengthens or kills, that which is invisible to the eye."

He paused, lifting his long head to stare down at the water. "I cannot promise to protect, as I am not all-powerful, but if you are attacked when I am near, I will try to ensure your escape. If you wish to carry what I do, then be still," he added, and then stepped forward, turning his glowing gaze back to the snake.

Quiet, he moved to brush his muzzle over the snake, if she allowed it--a brief touch of slick liquid over his soft snout, imparted to her scales. It would likely, if she did not cleanse it, infect her with the plague--a plague that she perhaps could spread as she saw fit.

It may be a trick, of course; she may wish to wander around cleansing it. Curing it. But that matters little, in the end. It is too far along to stop now. But it can be sped up.

Afterward, he stepped back, and gazed down at her. "It is done. Go and serve death, as I do."

Then he turned, and wandered out.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD