Paul was on his knees, weeping for the captured souls. For the voices of all the bright lios alfar who had set sail to their song, to find a world shaped by the Weaver for them alone.
Not one of them would have gotten there, he now knew. For a thousand years the lios had set forth, singly and in pairs, over a moonless sea.
To meet the Soulmonger of Maugrim. And become its voice.
Most hated by the Dark, for their name was Light.
–The Wandering Fire by Guy Gavriel Kay, Chapter 15