(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

MANNER OF WASPS."
And then it dawned on me. She knew.
Ravel's eyes dimmed, as if she was staring at something in the distance, and
her voice slowed. "A... fair-skinned one... must you ask. An angel, a deva, one
who soars on the wings of morning and with his hands, is the architect of
horizons. He lies, lies beyond my keeping, in another cage, in another
prison...
The bastard knew.
Trias, claiming he couldn't help me until he was freed and his blade
returned. Fhjull Forked-Tongue... exiled from his people, a Baatezu
somehow cheated in a contract with the deva...
And Ravel had known.
"How did he come to know of this?"
"TRIAS EXCHANGED WORDS WITH YOU ONCE, LONG AGO, WHEN YOU
KNEW THE WAY. YOU SPOKE YOUR HEART, AND TRIAS -- IN THE WAY OF ALL
GREAT BETRAYERS -- LISTENED WELL TO BUILD YOUR TRUST. SHORT THE
CONVERSATION WAS, THOUGH FILLED WITH MEANING. MEANING AND
DEATH IS WHAT YOU SEEK... TWO SEPARATE THINGS THEY ARE FOR A
NORMAL MAN. BUT FOR YOU... ONE AND THE SAME."
"Why would he lie to me?"
"THE ANSWER IS NOT OURS TO GIVE. YOU MUST SEEK HIM OUT YOURSELF,
AND ASK HIM."
"That's all I wished to know," I murmured, still stunned, and turned around
to leave.
The pillar halted our departure with a sudden demand: "STOP - GIVE US THE
SKULL. WE SHALL NOT ALLOW HIM TO GO. HE IS OURS. HE SHALL NOT
LEAVE AVERNUS." The heads began cooing at and taunting Morte: "Yes,
Skull, don't be shy... come back, Skull... it's comfortable in here, Skull...
come, come back... it doesn't hurt, Skull... 'tis great fun to be without a
body, living in a pillar of rot with one thousand other, lying heads..."
1060