Set sat in his black pyramid on his black throne (which had a nice red cushion for comfort). Callista entered via the Portal of Starlight, her beauty still unmatched. Her seductive smile and the way she swung her hips were always enticing to Set. 

“It must be important to risk my father’s wrath by calling for me,” Callista began. 

“It is time for my freedom from this place to be complete.”

“Only two can free you, Set: either the Lord of the Realms or the Elemental who imprisoned you here, namely Nicholas.” 

“How *is* Daddy Dearest? Alive and well, I presume?” Set laughed.

“You’re going to try to *leave* here? If he finds out, he won’t be pleased.” 

“Nicholas is busy deciding what to do with the Portal of Darkness. *He* may have the patience of a saint – pardon the expression – but *I* must strike now.” 

“You can sense the Portal?” 

“Of course I can. Wherever darkness, evil and decay are, they draw me.”

“When can I see our son?” Callista begged. 

“When I determine it.” 

Callista struggled with the fact that Set was able to still hide Babel from her. “Please, Set, I implore you, tell me his location.” 

Set angrily held up his right hand, which was chained to the planet by a red chain forged almost of pure fire. “Break this infernal thing and I will tell you all.”

“You know I cannot. Besides, Nicholas would sense my interference, and he would punish me for it. Not even I can stand up to my father’s power.” 

“Do you not believe I am able to defend you?” Set barked. 

“Oh, you *would* try, but not for my sake; you’ve become so used to lying that you can’t help yourself. No one can trust you, not even me.” Callista folded her arms. 

Set changed his tone to a more enticing one. “Come now, my dear, you *know* I love you. Join my side and leave Nicholas all alone. Let us make sweet love once more. Free me from my prison, and you can have it all.” He hissed as his eyes glowed green. His melodic words seemed to reach down to Callista’s core, weaving its way through her Shadow process as she floated herself towards his lips, lips that tasted like death. Nicholas always said she had a sick sense of taste. Callista’s lips met his, and she ran her left hand along his scaly head and drew back to look in his eyes.