Abruptly Berd turns away from Raziel, considering.  Unfair of me, Raziel.  I have asked much of you, about yourself, yet given little in return.

If you have time, there is something I would show you.  The drake's eyes glitter as he stares through the myriad spheres, seeking one in particular - a very familiar one.  It is a small place, of little import to the universe, but of great import to me.

Raziel turns away (if such a term can be used of a creature which does not seem to possess a front or back, in any easily determined sense of the word) from the newly created artwork, + THE WAR WOULD CONTINUE, EVEN WITHOUT HARBONAH.  MY PEOPLE HAVE SEEN WHAT THERE IS TO BE GAINED, AND THEY WILL NOT EASILY FORGET THAT VISION.  YET WITHOUT HARBONAH'S OVERWHELMING AND UNIFYING CONTROL OVER THE FACTIONS, IT IS LIKELY THAT THEY WOULD TEND TO FIGHT AMONG THEMSELVES.  THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE RESULTING FROM SUCH WARFARE MIGHT BE FAR LESS THAN THE DIRECT DAMAGE PRODUCED BY AN ASSAULT ON A WORLD. +

The Archon shrinks, until it is no larger than Berd, + I FEAR THAT SUCH AN INTER-FACTION WAR WILL RESULT, WHATEVER HAPPENS.  IF YOU CAN NOT BRING DOWN HARBONAH, THEN IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THREE OR FOUR POWEFUL ARCHONS MANAGE TO SET ASIDE THEIR DIFFERENCES LONG ENOUGH TO DO IT. +

+ HARBONAH PROBABLY KNOWS THIS, AND IT IS LIKELY THAT THOUGHT WHICH DRIVES HIM, EVER FASTER, TOWARDS HIS GOAL. +

+ THIS PLACE YOU SPEAK OF... IS IT AS INTERESTING AS THIS ONE HAS BEEN? +  The herenethi can not conceal its curiosity...

Berd things furiously on Raziel's words.  The answer lies within them, he is certain.  From where did the Archons originate?  What if they could find a way back into that place?  Did it still exist?

I would have your people cease this war entirely...but I can see it would require a major shift in their way of thinking.  Such shifts are not impossible, but remain unlikely, and difficult to achieve.  An understatement, to be sure.

How?  How to stop the war?

As to the other place...  Berd breathes out slowly, amusement colouring the smoke with hints of fuschia.  All places can be interesting, though not to all people.  Subjective preferences, yes?  The drake ponders for a long moment.  It is precious to me, and of great import.  And yes, there are things you might find very interesting - possibly upon the level of what little we have seen here.  I believe it might capture your attention.

Follow, if you would!

With that, the drake dives deeply, falling out of reality's grasp into the void beneath the Myriad Worlds, then spearing into the Underflow like a kingfisher into a pond.

The Underflow seems different as Berd descends into it.  More turbulent...

Raziel moves closer, + WE MUST MAKE HASTE.  SOMETHING IS COMING.  NOT ARCHONS, I THINK, BUT ONE OF THE THINGS WHICH LIVES HERE.  IT MAY DECIDE TO DO US HARM IF IT SENSES US.  OR IT MAY NOT... AND STILL DO HARM BY THE SIMPLE ACT OF PASSING. +

So the two fall through the Underflow, seeking a place that Berd knows.  The currents are disrupted, though, and the journey takes longer than expected.

+ IT IS BEHIND US, THOUGH I SUSPECT IT DOES NOT KNOW WE ARE HERE.  I BELIEVE WE ARE BENEATH ITS NOTICE.  WHICH WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE, OF COURSE, IF WE ARE CONSUMED WITHOUT EVEN BEING DISCOVERED. +

Finally, Berd finds what he searches for, and rises towards it like a gleaming bubble emerging from the darkest of ocean depths.  Beneath and behind something passes, a shadow something, large as a world and shaped like fear.  In the wake of its passing, Berd and Raziel struggle to maintain their course.

Finally they are cast out of the Underflow, like storm-tossed mariners on the shore of some ocean.

They are in a mist-shrouded forest, and there is a cabin close by.  In front of the cabin is a giant spiderweb, suspended between two trees, and seemingly constructed of glass.  It is wet with dew, and dead leaves cling to its surface.  Closer examination reveals that large parts of the brittle structure are cracked or broken, but enough remains to give an indication of its original form.

Berd peers 'over his shoulder' as he rises from the flow into the proper world, his eyes wide and whirling.  Too close.  The Underflow grows more threatening by the day - ancient beings move, perhaps disturbed by the travel of vast armies...

And into the world.

Materializing before the shattered remains of the spiderweb, Berd stares at it sadly for a long moment, wings beating frantically.  Creation of one of the creatures of a world the Seraphim sought to conquer.  Beautiful creatures...but not why I am here.  One of his minds begins to draw out a memory of its former glory, focusing on the details.  Whirling in the air, Berd shakes off the last of his malaise and turns to the structure in the middle of the clearing.

I spent a great deal of time upon this world.  Insignificant, by the standards of most - far from great hubs or fonts of power.  Here, I raised the child of my spirit, forged of dust and sunlight by my mind.  My own daughter.  The one you may have known as The General.

Longing, brilliant eyes study the small cottage.  Berd breathes out a small, flickering cloud.  Lightning crackles from its base, then the scintillating creation disperses into mist, then sparkles, then...gone.  And the door to the cottage swings open.

+ THE INHABITANTS OF THE UNDERFLOW ARE SELDOM CONCERNED BY THE MOVEMENT OF LESSER CREATURES.  THEY ARE ONLY PERIPHERALLY AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF SUCH CREATURES.  THEY FEED ON DEAD WORLDS, AND OTHER CREATURES ARE TAKEN ENTIRELY BY ACCIDENT. +

Raziel glides closer to the cabin, rotating faster.  Sparks flare from the Archon's surface, crackling through the damp air.

+ THIS INSIGNIFICANT DWELLING WAS ONCE THE GENERAL'S HOME?  THAT IS INTERESTING, YES. +

+ HARBONAH HAS, OCCASIONALLY, EXPRESSED AN INTEREST IN DISCOVERING HER ORIGINS.  NOW I KNOW SOMETHING WHICH HE DOES NOT, AND I FIND THAT I AM NOT, AT THIS TIME, INCLINED TO PASS ON THE INFORMATION. +

Berd files away the information regarding the creatures of the Underflow, and considers the possibility of the Gatherer.  Was that, perhaps, where it was found?  Small to begin with - a child stolen from its parents, marooned upon the world, slowly growing as it consumed?

I thank you, Raziel.  This house...this home has little to no strategic value, but rather holds much personal interest to me.  I would not see it destroyed.

My daughter...the General...I am unsure if she even recalls it.  Her mind is damaged - badly - her memories in disarray.  He sighs once, deeply, and with a flick of his tail to Raziel, flits within the rustic cabin.

Within is the same living and kitchen area as before - out of habit, Berd banishes the dust with a thought - and, as always, the paintings.  Paintings on walls, on easels.  Paintings in watercolour, in oil, art in mixed media, in charcoal.  Paintings of lost lands, of people (alien and human both), of Berd himself.  All in the same style - Cyan's style - but demonstrating a growth of skill, of eye, of artistic expression itself.

These are her works.  She, like you, was an artist, though of a different sort.  I say was, for since Harbonah shattered her, she has not put brush to paper.  Has shown no desire, even after returning to her own mind.  Berd hangs his head.  That part of her may be forever broken.

She sang once, as well.  Created music.  Tiny sprites materialize, male and female.  Like brilliant, dancing comets, they spiral to the tall, free-standing harp in the corner - Berd decides for them that it remains in tune, and the twain flit from spring to spring, plucking out a complex, sorrowful song, whispering of evil ascendent, of terrible loss, but ending with a refrain of hope.  A Thousand Tears - her work, inspired by the fall of Menegroth.  The little dragon lands on the back of a chair, its wood well-worn from the grip of his claws, and hangs his head, eye dull.  Though she has regained her harp, my daughter has ceased to sing.  And a little more light dies in the universe.  The war steals from us more than it gives.

This, too, Harbonah has wrought. 

+ THE LIGHT DIES, LITTLE BY LITTLE.  HARBONAH IS NOT EVEN AWARE OF THE SPARK, AND YET IT IS EXTINGUISHED AT HIS COMMAND. +  Raziel's voice is quiet again, thoughtful sounding.

+ MORE ENERGY IS REQUIRED FOR CREATION THAN FOR DESTRUCTION, YET CREATION GIVES FAR MORE BACK TO THE WORLD.  THE ENERGY OF CREATION IS NOT USED, BUT... REDIRECTED.  IT BECOMES SOMETHING ELSE.  SOMETHING GREATER THAN THE ORIGINAL ENERGY AND MATERIALS. +

The voice rises again, + I AM FILLED WITH SORROW THAT YOUR DAUGHTER SINGS NO MORE.  I HAVE HEARD THE SONGS OF THE DEHUDAR... I DO NOT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO CALL THEM... THE WORLD IS COMPOSED OF TINY PARTICLES, WHICH ARE COMPOSED, IN TURN, OF YET SMALLER PARTICLES.  THE SMALLEST OF ALL ARE THE DEHUDAR, SO SMALL THAT THEY CAN BARELY BE SAID TO EXIST. +

+ YET, AS THEY MOVE UPON THEIR PATHS, THEY VIBRATE.  THE ARCHONS CAN, IF CONDITIONS ARE RIGHT, AND IF WE SO CHOOSE, HEAR THOSE VIBRATIONS.  THE UNIVERSE IS BUILT UPON A SONG - THE SONG OF THE DEHUDAR IS PART OF ALL THAT EXISTS.  SONG IS FUNDAMENTAL TO EVERYTHING.  +

+ BUT SONG HAS BEEN STOLEN FROM YOUR DAUGHTER.  AND HARBONAH WAS PROBABLY ENTIRELY UNAWARE OF HER SONG.  SUCH WASTE IS FOOLISH. +

You hear the song of the universe, Raziel.  Fortunate - few races are so lucky.  But all races, somewhere within where the light lies, can feel that song resonate within them, within others, should they tune themselves to hear.

He stares sadly at the forgotton, forlorn artwork, a few pieces half-finished, possibly never now to be completed.  I thank you for your compassion.  As would my daughter, were she here.  If she even comprehends what she has lost.  Foolish.  Waste.  Loss.  All these things.

Creation gives, yes.  It inspires.  It grows.  Destruction is necessary to keep it within balance, but balance is now lost and the universe slides towards destruction.

Harbonah...does not understand.  He has not seen.  He cares nothing for the song, for the light, for he has never experienced it, I suspect.  I wish I could show him, but I fear he would not listen.  And if he did, still would not comprehend.

I can hope, though.  That is why I was in his stronghold - to meet with him, to seek some sort of understanding, to see if it would be possible to end this.

He casts his burning eyes upon the crackling herenethi.  Privilaged was I to have met you, for you have shown me things that give me hope.  You give, Raziel.  You have given back, and the universe is a brighter place for it.

Even if the war does not stop, if the universe shatters, I take hope in what you have shown me.  For it means the light does burn within you, within your people, and even if all falls it will shine.  Feebly in the beginning, perhaps, but shine it will.

A rueful smile displays his needle-teeth.  Of course, I will prevent that fall if I can.

+ AND I SHALL ASSIST YOU, IN ANY WAY THAT LAYS WITHIN MY POWER. + Raziel responds, sounding distinctly angry now.

+ HARBONAH HAS KEPT MUCH FROM OUR PEOPLE, INTENTIONALLY OR NOT.  THERE ARE THINGS WHICH MAY HAVE UNKNOWN AT THE START OF THIS, BUT WHICH HARBONAH MUST HAVE BECOME AWARE OF BY NOW.  IF OTHERS CAN BE MADE AWARE, THEN... +

The Archon pauses, then flares, bright as a sun... + THE SENCATHI! +

+ THE SENCATHI WERE A TYPE OF ARCHON, LIKE THE HERENETHI, OR THE DANIOTI, OR THE ESHURIANTI, BUT FAR FEWER IN NUMBERS.  MOST OF THE LOWER ARCHONS, THE YOUNGER ONES, KNOW NOTHING OF THEM.  I ONLY KNOW OF THEM BECAUSE OF MY PLACE IN HARBONAH's FORTRESS. +

+ SHORTLY AFTER WE FIRST CAME TO THIS UNIVERSE, AFTER WE WERE RELEASED, HARBONAH SLEW THE SENCATHI, ALL OF THEM, IN A SINGLE HOUR.  THEY CLAIMED TO HAVE FOUND OUT SOMETHING ABOUT THE WAR.  HARBONAH DECLARED THEM TRAITORS, PLOTTING TO DESTROY ALL OTHER ARCHONS, AND HAD THEM SWEPT FROM EXISTENCE.  PERHAPS THEY HAD DISCOVERED WHAT I AM NOW SEEING FOR MYSELF. +

About to agree, to question what else Harbonah may have kept secret, Berd freezes as Raziel's output skyrockets with his shock and fury.  Horrified, Berd listens as the archon describes Harbonah's crime, his stomach turning over as the herenethi finishes his terse tale.

Genocide...in the name of conquest.  As always.  Sickened, Berd hangs his head.  Harbonah has always demonstrated the capacity to strike at his own people.  But I never suspected he would obliterate an entire sibling race.

Slowly, his eyes begin to burn.  He would, I suspect, be pleased were he the only being left in creation, lording over the corpses of all in creation.

Raziel, is there any possibility the sencathi might have survived?  Any of them?  Might Harbonah have kept some of them imprisoned for his own purposes?

+ THAT IS UNLIKELY.  KEEPING ONE ALIVE WOULD RISK AN ESCAPE, AND THE REVELATION OF WHAT HAD OCCURRED.  EXTERMINATION WOULD BE THE SAFER OPTION. +

The Archon falls silent, and then, after a brief pause, continues, + BUT I SUPPOSE IT IS, JUST BARELY, POSSIBLE THAT SOME ESCAPED.  A FEW.  THERE WAS CONFUSION AT THE TIME.  THE ARCHONS HAD JUST BEEN RELEASED FROM THE FIRST PLACE, AND THE WORLD AROUND THEM WAS FAR FROM WHAT THEY HAD EXPERIENCED PREVIOUSLY.  THEY COULD SCATTER.  SPREAD OUT. +

+ SOME OF THE SENCATHI MAY HAVE SCATTERED SO FAR, AND SO FAST, AS TO EFFECTIVELY BE IN HIDING.  THEY WERE, REPORTEDLY, EXTREMELY FAST, EVEN FOR ARCHONS. +

Berd takes a deep breath.  So much to do.  So little time.  And he misses his daughter, more than he could have imagined.  How long has passed for her?  Days?  Weeks?

Years?

But he has a responsibility.  And she would tell him the same.  The fire in his eyes intensifies.  Then I shall find them, Raziel.  I will seek out your fallen cousins.

I will speak to them, telling them of this war.  Of the lies Harbonah has used, of how they have been forgotten by nearly all.  Of how not all of their cousins have fallen.  Of how if all is not protected now, all will surely fall, leaving nothing but madness and hatred and constant, bitter war between Archons, in a cold, dead universe.

I will speak to them of Raziel, who with his words has given them the chance to step forward, with allies to protect them from Harbonah's wrath and bilious hatred, and help make things right.

Already the hydra splits, its minds sending feelers into the myriad worlds.

I know not where to begin, but I will find them.

Raziel - they would have sought a means to hide.  Would the Myriad Worlds cloak them?  Or must they find a place outside?  Perhaps a place of power, where their own emmenations would be shadowed by the tides of force.

+ IF THEY ARE HIDING, THEN IT WILL BE DIFFICULT TO FIND THEM. +

Raziel pauses for a while, seemingly deep in thought, and adopts a slow movement from side to side, like the swing of a pendulum.

And, at last, + THERE MAY BE PLACES WHERE THEY COULD GO, WHERE OTHER ARCHONS COULD NOT.  PLACES WHERE ESHURIANTI WOULD BE EXTINGUISHED, HERENETHI DISSIPATED, AND DANIOTI CRUSHED AND IMMOBILISED. +

+ OR THEY MAY SIMPLY RELY ON THEIR SPEED TO STAY AHEAD OF THEIR ENEMIES.  MOVING ALWAYS. +

Speed is an illusionary escape.  If one runs far and fast enough, one finds oneself face to face with what one wishes to avoid.  But hiding in a place where the other archons cannot, will not enter...yes, I believe you have it, Raziel.

Water.  Damaging to both herenethi and eshurianti, but useless against the danioti.  Gravetics and magnetism - deadly to the danioti.  There are other potential areas I must consider, but wherever they have fled, it will be to a place most inhospitable by any standards.  Perhaps even their own.

Poor creatures.

His eyes narrow, halving their burning light, though not their intensity.  Raziel.  Can your people change themselves?  I have seen all of your kind take upon different, temporary forms.  Might it be possible for an archon to alter itself on a more permanent basis?

+ WE CAN SHIFT FORMS, YES, BUT I KNOW OF NO ARCHON WHO HAS CHOSEN TO DO SO PERMANENTLY.  IT IS SIMILAR TO CHANGING SIZE, SIMPLE TO DO, IF YOU KNOW THE METHOD. + Raziel says, slowly, thoughtfully.  + BUT THERE ARE RESTRICTIONS.  ALWAYS WE RETAIN THE ESSENCE OF WHAT WE ARE.  ONE OF THE DANIOTI COULD, IF IT WISHED, AND IF IT HAD SUFFICIENT WILL, ADOPT ANOTHER FORM, BUT IT WOULD ALWAYS REMAIN A THING OF METAL.  LIKEWISE, ONE OF MY KIND COULD BECOME HUMANOID, OR A BIRD, OR EVEN AN INSECT, BUT THAT FORM WOULD STILL HOLD LIGHTNING WITHIN IT. +

+ AND WE CAN NEVER BE STILL.  MOTION IS ESSENTIAL TO US, AS BREATHING IS TO HUMANS.  MORE SO, FOR A HUMAN CAN PAUSE IN ITS BREATHING FOR A SHORT WHILE.  WE CAN NOT STOP MOVING. +

Berd considers.

Not disguised, then.  As you said before - hidden somewhere the others cannot find them, or continuously moving.  In the latter case, I would expect someone - one of your people - would have seen them before now.  And talked.

So, most likely the former.  A torment, for creatures used to moving so freely.

Berd slowly breathes out, glittering mist surrounding him, then fading.  Too long away from daughter, away from friends.  It hurts, but he has a task to carry out.  Much more rides upon this than his pain.

I will consider, Raziel.  I was most fortunate to meet you.

Of curiousity, what did the Sencathi resemble?

+ AND I FORTUNATE TO MEET YOU.  I HAVE LEARNED MUCH CONCERNING... + and Raziel laughs then, a crashing peal of thunder, which fades away at last, + I ALMOST CALLED YOU MY ENEMY, BUT I NO LONGER CONSIDER THAT TO BE TRUE.  LET US SAY, INSTEAD, THAT I HAVE LEARNED MUCH CONCERNING OTHER BEINGS. +

+ THE SENCATHI ARE SIMILAR TO THE DANIOTI, IN THAT THEIR FORM IS COMPOSED OF SHARDS OF SOLID MATERIAL, BUT IN THEIR CASE THAT MATERIAL IS CRYSTALINE FROZEN WATER. +

+ IN SHORT, THE SENCATHI BORE THE SHAPE OF A WHEEL OF ICE. +

Berd grins his needle-toothed smile, genuinely pleased at Raziel's conclusion.  We have both learned a great deal about other beings, I think, and are the better for it.

He considers further Raziel's words and his own plans.  Finally he speaks.  I must find the Sencathi, then.  Perhaps they - if it is not too much a play upon words - might help cool the fury of their cousins.  But I must also inform my daughter of this, and determine what she has discovered.  Perhaps there is more we might do...

There must be a way to stop this war without either side being decimated!

He eyes the sparkling, dancing form before him.  Strange, how something becomes so beautiful once the menace is gone, once some understanding is achieved.  Perhaps that is the key, after all.  If both sides understood one another, saw one another as worthy creatures...it would be no magical seal over the war, but it might accomplish a great deal.

Raziel, I fear we soon must part.  May I call upon you in the future?  I shall be...circumspect.  I will not 'give you away' to others, to endanger you.  Nor will I speak of you or your name save to those I hold in strictest confidence.

But before that...is there anything you wish to ask me?  Or do you have a different plan in mind?  I am open to suggestions, he finishes, in a wry tone.

+ I HAVE DECIDED WHAT I MUST DO. + Raziel answers, after barely a moment's hesitation, + I SHALL RETURN TO HARBONAH'S FORTRESS, AND CONTINUE IN MY DUTIES.  BUT I SHALL PROVIDE WHAT INFORMATION I CAN TO HARBONAH'S ENEMIES, WHO ARE NO LONGER MY ENEMIES. +

+ I SUSPECT THAT THE NEPHELIM WOULD BE PLEASED TO KNOW, IN ADVANCE, IF HARBONAH PLANS TO STRIKE AGAINST THEM. +

The Archon considers briefly, and then adds, + I MAY BE ABLE TO USE HARBONAH'S FEW REMAINING SCRYING DEVICES TO SEEK THE SENCATHI.  HARBONAH WOULD, DOUBTLESS, DO THE SAME, IF THEY WERE STILL CONSIDERED A THREAT. +

+ I WOULD WELCOME FURTHER CONTACT, AND WILL ATTEMPT TO INITIATE IT, IF I DO LOCATE ANY OF THE SENCATHI. +

Berd wilts a touch under the weight of Raziel's decision.  True, it is the archon's choice, but a dangerous one, a choice Raziel would never have taken had he not interfered.  And yet, would it be better for the herenethi to blithely continue on a path to destruction?

No.

Straightening, he peers up at the crackling wheel with lambent eyes.  A brave decision.  I will be speaking to the nephillim, but shall not disclose your name.  For all we know, there are spies amongst them.

I will not forget, Raziel, and most certainly I will contact you...when prudent to do so.  You have my spirit's signature - no doubt you have means to contact me, should you require assistance, or find word of the sencathi.

I will do the same.

Rising up, Berd fans his wings in the air, preparatory to leave-taking. Fortunate I am to have met you, Raziel of the herenethi,  Raziel the artist.  Your insight and enlightenment has clad my certitude in diamond - this war can end without genocide or apocalypse.  You have my gratitude and respect.

Perhaps a little much, but as Cyan is wont to note, the difficulty with conversations with Berd is two-fold - first, pushing him to speak; second, pushing him to stop.

+ AND YOU HAVE MINE, FOR SHOWING ME THESE THINGS. +

Raziel starts to move away, but hesitates, + BEWARE BERD.  HARBONAH'S HOUNDS WILL BE HUNTING FOR YOUR PEOPLE.  THEY WILL NOT REST UNTIL THEY FIND THEM, AND ONCE THAT HAPPENS, HARBONAH'S FORCES WILL BE CLOSE BEHIND. +

And then the Archon simply grows, expanding and fading until it is gone...

The Hounds, yes.  Berd knows of them now, how they operate, how they hunt, all thanks to Raziel.  Another debt to lay at the feet of the herenethi.  Silently the drake ponders this problem, before coming to a conclusion.

The Hounds are a threat, but they also provide possibilities.

The door opens and the dragon soars forth, by habit leaving the house before leaving the world.  In an instant, a wind stirs the remnants of the spider's glassy web, rustles the leaves in the tree.  And once again, the clearing is empty, the little cabin waiting patiently for its owners to return.

Berd swims the underflow like a dolphin, rising from time to time to take his bearings.  The Hounds.  He must find a means to stall them.  One of the Hydra peels away, beginning work - an overlay, a creation that mimic's Cyan's own signature, her unique vibrations in the aether.  It may confound them, confuse them.  Keep them from his daughter until she is ready to face them.

There will be battle.  She will need that black sword of hers.

Other heads of the hydra quest, hunting for the sencathi - for word, for a scent, for a legend.  Into the depths they peer, then sweep the worlds above.  One shoots off into the Void itself, seeking any sparkling lights that might glimmer distant from the Myriad worlds.  Dangerous, dangerous, and yet...what choice do they have?

If only he found the shadow of a dark horse, Berd laments.  But Typhon he left far, far behind, aeons ago.

Word comes from the hydra-head with Cyan.  We seek Soqed Hezi.  Immediately, one of the minds peels off; recalling the psychic vibrations of the danioti it pulls a trick Cyan would appreciate, sending that vibration through the underflow as if it were a 'trump' or palanquet, then waiting for the echoes.  Only once - a single 'ping', in sonar terms, set to a specific vibrational frequency.  Any more might be picked up on by the wrong people....

As luck would have it, the echo returns to Berd almost immediately - Soqed Hezi is nearby, comparatively speaking.

But that echo is not the only thing... on the periphery of Berd's senses, a shape moves, following after the mind which lays the false scent.  It drags itself through the Underflow, tendrils of dark matter lashing out to fasten upon worlds and haul its pulsating bulk forward.  More of those tendrils reach out, seeking the source of the psychic scent.

And then something as big as worlds rises from the depths.  A mouth gapes, deeper darkness upon darkness, and the Hound is gone as its attacker sinks back whence it came.

There will be more Hounds, of course, but one less is a small improvement.