[Xietor]

In a deep cavern underneath the Capital, Bones, immortal, undead, and surrounded by an unearthly chill gazed clearly upon his undead general despite the pitch black condition of the room.

Undead General: The Great Mother is no more Creator.

Bones: Yes, the weapons I forged for your "brother" were designed to kill her. She really never had a chance. Poor woman. In time I will release her from the fragile shell in which she dwells. Then she will serve me.

She was a worthy adversary, however, and likely would have gone far had she not become too dangerous to leave unopposed.