As That Which Calls to the Shadows looks on at the Crowned Sun a smile spreads across her face. The ease of using these demigod’s own character flaws to break them never ceased to amuse her and once again another one sat before her ready to crack. How old was this one, maybe thirty years, and she had lived for millennia, how could he possibly hope to bargain with her and come out ahead? She watches as his resolve slowly crumbles away and now sees a change come over him, and knows that he would be willing to accept whatever offer she gave.
His mouth opens ready to speak and finally she is able to look into his mind clearly and now knows that he will acquiesce to whatever pathetic reward she offers. This one was even weaker than she thought. But suddenly her connection to his mind is snapped, and she feels a dark presence settle in on the room. It is different than her own, or the other demons, it is more like the presence of one of the Yozi, yet somehow more empty, more cold. The Solar sits looking straight ahead seemingly lost in his own mind for a moment, but then his consciousness is regained, and he looks up at her and this time it is he who smiles. She looks upon his face and sees that this is no longer the Solar Exalt Cynis Drakoran before her, he is simply a conduit for something else, and when she peers into his eyes she realizes the source of that presence she felt, the Neverborn.
Drakoran stands up and walks over to the throne in which Erembour sits. He steps up to the throne and seeming to tower above her and enmity bores through her from his stare. He reaches his hand down lifting up her chin, drawing her gaze directly into his and speaks, in a voice that while not threatening, is nothing if not sure.
“I ask you this, Erembour, you wish to save me from the inevitable destruction that will come from your triumph, to bring me to your side so that I may survive the impending holocaust? Pfff. I decline your offer. It is not I who will need saving if your ilk is victorious in its pathetic escape attempt. I am no priest, but I can prophecy the consequences of your return, for it is clear to me now. Oh yes you will have your glorious return no doubt, the world will tremble before the might of the Yozi and they shall finally have their long sought revenge. The battle will be long and hard fought, Yu Shan will not give up creation easily, and while heavy casualties will be inflicted on both sides, there is no doubt as to the victory of the Yozi. The gods have become weak and pathetic, they cannot even control their own realm, and their champions are scattered, inexperienced, and faction less.
But after that long awaited victory that your kind has desired for so long, after it seems like you will be able to retake all that you have lost, that is when your hopes will end. For you will have forgotten your brethren who were slain in the first battle, those who died rather than cowering away into a cell, becoming nothing more than slaves to those who they fought. For after all the carnage and all the destruction, after creation has been scoured, and all life that does not enslave itself to you has been snuffed out, then the slain will rise up against their slayers. The death and destruction wrought by your return will begin the transformation of all creation into one vast shadowland.
Those not destroyed in your war, especially the Exalts who are able to flee, will seek security wherever it may be found, and the Deathlords will be more than happy to deliver it, as long as they are willing to serve. Then after you and your breed has finished with its little temper tantrum, Oblivion’s champions will rise up, and the war will be renewed, but this time there will be no imprisonment, no amnesty, no slavery, only death. Not even the Yozi, who are already weakened by excessive warfare, could hope to stand against the might of the 13 with all their Exalted champions, and the ghost of almost every living being currently living in creation, along with all those who have died before? Yes lady Erembour, the Yozi may have their revenge, but the Malfeans will be the final arbiters of retribution.”
And as he pronounces this doom, That Which Calls to the Shadows looks into the eyes of Cynis Drakoran and sees her end. She sees the Ebon Dragon flying through a starless sky being herded by hundreds of thousands of ghosts throwing themselves at him in a mass suicide driving him towards a circle of 13 great spires over the city of Stygia. Once he has been corralled, the spires light up with runes and the beings standing on top of them begin to chant calling forth the power from their dark gods. Chains of necromantic energy shoot up from the center and latch themselves on to those parts of the Ebon Dragon’s soul that have already been perverted by the essence of death. Then they begin to drag him down thrashing hopelessly to the center of that the circle of spires, the Well of the Void.
After this Drakoran falls to the floor, curling up into a ball and sobbing, begging to make them stop. And as she looks down on the wretched Exalt, a feeling that not known to That Which Calls to the Shadows for thousands of years manifests itself, fear.