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Beckon To The Dark

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The clang of his own blade on stone was all he heard as the darkness drained from him... killed defending the very being that had enslaved him.

 

He lay there hour after hour, unable to know, unable to move, and then, he felt;

 

Instead of fire, he saw light.

Instead of death, he saw life.

Instead of damnation he saw salvation.

 

As he lay there, catatonic, the rage warped and twisted into a realization; the wyrm was dead.

 

In his smoldering body, an internal laugh taunted Setherien in his dying breath.

 

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And for a single second before his soul perished for the last time, he felt mortal again....

 

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Harbinger Oblitus had arrived late to the feud, whether it was planned or by mistake.. it was too late for the incorporeal being to do something. Before its very own gaze, its master fell to the hands of mortals and Lance, cast away from the realm for eternity.

 

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The Harbinger sulked off into the distance shortly after the Draakar's fall, forced into hiding as his weakened form was deprived of the power it siphoned from during the intense battles.

 

The Battle for Anthos...

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The Battles for Burzumkotoaz..

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Once born anew in the fiery womb of Setherien's flames.. Oblitus was finally free.. free at last..

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