Every night Melkor would sneak into Mairon’s room. He would speak to Mairon of sweet things, of unrestrained passions, of raw and primitive desirous creation. Of the primordial night. Of sin, and it’s wild ecstatic freedom. And when he looked into Melkor’s eyes he saw something. Something quite obvious, something with a beating heart and a fiery soul. Now he knew he would never be the same again, as he had seen all the universe in the eyes of another. He now knew the taste of divine violence, and he had never known such perfection.