A pale, gangly youth with yellow-stained eyes and lank, black hair, leading the vast army from atop his draught horse. His face was a thing of inhuman beauty, as if no soul resided behind the perfect mask...The white of the First’s eyes was the colour of honey, his pupils a murky, slate grey. Torchlight illuminated his alabaster-hued face, made his full lips strangely red.

MoI, UK Trade, p.363-4

The First Child of the Dead Seed

dreams of a father’s dying breath

and hears in eternal refrain

the scream trapped in his lungs –

Dare you step behind his eyes

even for a moment?

The First Child of the Dead Seed

leads an army of sorrow

down hunger’s bone-picked road

where a mother dances and sings –

Dare you walk in his steps

and dearly hold her hand?

The First Child of the Dead Seed

is sheathed in the clutter of failed armour

defending him from the moment of birth

through years of dire schooling –

Do not dare judge him hard

lest you wear his skin.

Silba of the Shattered Heart

K’alass

MoI, UK Trade, p.466