We move together, Panic and Chaos, the second and third of the children.

We lead the scouts, the assasins, the ones that cause people opposed to us to be dead. We ourselves can move faster than thought, tearing those other than us to pieces, keeping them alive and conscious and feeding from their anguish.

We breathe together, Stick and Stone, the pair that extracts information, that arranges things and causes them to happen.

That which can fell pain can know the terror of opposing us, the Twin Lords of Ice, cold, unmoving, sharp and deadly.

We think together, Two and Three. We never leave each other’s side for fear of what lies apart. We will never be alone, but we can deprive others of all but the company of their own thoughts.

Uncouple the senses, deprive them of sight, sound and touch and they will fall, the last agonies of their coherent thoughts sweet sights for our mind.

We are the Two that think as One.