The burning tent lit up the night sky as the unnatural flames towered and curled over the camp. The silence was banished by frenetic screaming and loud shouts echoing through the night, as men hurried to regroup and extinguish the flames.

    Karak could feel the heat even from where he stood, a good ways down the hill and standing behind an outcropping of rock. The others stood around him in the immediate area, all of their attention riveted on the burning tent and its environs.

    Damn, that Habib’s plan went better than I thought it would. He thought to himself, flexing his arms. His muscles still felt partially numb and somewhat weak, but that was not going to stop him, not now.

     “Such a beautiful fire, isn’t it, my love? Doesn’t it remind you of that day in Ascalon?”

    Dana. I was beginning to think you weren’t there.

     “I am. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re together now. That’s all I ever wanted.”

    And Pister dying is just an added bonus, right? Distantly, Karak could almost not believe that he was talking to someone lurking in his very mind – or some such like – but he was beginning to not question things and just accept them as they were. When one lived in Tyria, there were some things one just did not question.

    “Pister, dead? Can’t you still feel him, Karak, pulling at our strings? He’s not dead. Fire can’t kill him.”

    That fire is Heather’s doing. She said that only the sun itself was hotter than it. Very soon no one would even guess that something existed up there on that hill. There’s no goddamn way anyone could survive that!

     “Watch and see, my love.”

    “You poisoned her?” Heather’s voice snapped Karak out of his musings. She was talking to the old man, leaning forward as though he was telling her some bedtime story.

    “Got it from a sample of Bones’ blood. He contracted a disease in Cantha. Terminal. No known cure.”

    “By the Gods, Habib. You gave her a poison to which there’s no cure? I thought you told her that you would cure her when all this is over?” Karissa said.

    The old warrior shrugged. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

    Man, he is one serious son-of-a-bitch. I think I’m actually staring to like the guy. Karak thought to himself.

    “I’m glad that you’re feeling better.” Karissa said, walking up to him with an unreadable expression on her dark face.

    “Yeah. Thanks.” Karak replied curtly. He had never spoken to the woman before and barely knew anything about her save for the fact that she was some sort of abominable offspring between humans and Forgotten.

    “Many who get lost in the Desert never return with their minds intact.” She continued, keeping her voice low and casting a glance in Habib’s direction. “I don’t think any one of us will leave this place in the same condition we came in.”

    Karak took a seat and leaned back against the boulder behind him, running his hand slowly in the sand beside him. “That’s for sure.”

    Karissa joined him on the ground, keeping her billowing clothes wrapped closely about her body. “I think that there is something that I need to tell you, Karak.”

    Her voice had taken on a sudden urgent tone that drew Karak’s attention. “What?”

    “The Forgotten left many places of power throughout this Desert. Many areas where their ancient arts still exist. Many places where they can still intervene in human affairs. We stumbled upon one – an abandoned town – when we were looking for you.” She paused and licked her lips; slowly and deliberately. “I had a vision there. One that only one of my profession and my... mixed heritage... can have.”

    She paused this time for so long that Karak thought that she had finished speaking altogether. “What vision is this?” Don’t leave me hanging, here.

    She took a deep breath. “I saw your brother dying.”

    “He’s already dead.” Karak snapped violently.

    Karissa shrugged. “So you say. There are other domains than life and Tyria, Karak. In my vision there was a Resurrection Signet.”

    Karak cocked an eyebrow and sucked his teeth. “Those things are myths, woman. They do not exist.” Resurrection Signets. Fabled things to draw someone back from the grave. Blasted Old Wives tales.

    “So were Forgotten, at one time. Many myths were once truths, Karak. But you must pay heed to me. Your brother did not die a regular death. Something called him back for some purpose, and even now he exists somewhere as a different entity with different desires. I saw him die... again. By the hand of someone you know. I could not see the person’s face, but it is someone you know very well.”

    Although Karak wanted to tell Karissa that she was talking utter bullshit, some part of him whispered to him that her words held some kernel of truth, if not entirely true altogether. But Farrion is dead. I... saw him... die. That was not entirely true either. The last things he remembered of that terrible time underground were the writhing masses of dryders and Farrion’s distraught voice telling him to flee. Could he have survived? With a Resurrection Signet? Where would he get one from? Does that mean that Heavens and Tsuki could have made it, too? By the Gods, was Jala telling the truth?!

    The warrior turned to look at Karissa fully. “You’re trying to tell me that Farrion is still alive and that there’s no way I can save him from some fate you saw in a vision?”

    Karissa lowered her gaze and looked back towards the burning hillock. “I’m telling you what I saw, Karak. The Forgotten forced us into certain deals when we were in that town. They want Ja’al dead – as do we all – but for their own reasons. They created her, after all. They know what she may be capable of.”

    Farrion is still alive. Sweet Dwayna. Still alive. To the Underworld with the Forgotten! I want to see my brother again! “Did you see where he was? I need to get to him.”

    “I don’t know where he is, Karak. But if you remember nothing else, remember this: everything comes with a price, even knowledge.”

    Karak’s senses perked up as Jala finally reached the others. Karissa fell into silence as both of them looked up towards her. Strangely enough, the dark demon-woman looked terrified, as though she expected the very earth itself to rise up and suddenly swallow her whole.

    “Well done.” Habib said curtly. “For a moment there I did not think you would return.”

    “What did you expect, you asshole?” Jala snapped, “You poisoned me when you cut my neck. Even now I can still feel it working its way through my body. Do you think I want to die before I fulfil my purpose? Not likely!”

    “Good to hear it.”

    The demon-woman crossed her arms beneath her breasts and looked back over at the burning tent. The unnatural fire still blazed as powerfully as it did when it had started, and all the attempts of the Scarabs to extinguish it were failing miserably. There was a sudden burst of flame, towering high into the night sky like a beam of light, and then all the fire vanished, plunging the hill and most of the camp into the darkness.

    Karak grabbed his scimitar as a chill shivered down his spine. What the hell? A look at Karissa told him that she was thinking pretty much the same thing.

     “Watch and see.”

    A low moaning suddenly came to Karak’s ears. At first it sounded as though it came from just beside him; just next to his left ear, but slowly the moaning grew until the sound came from all around – everywhere at once. The air died and the temperature dropped, even as Karak could hear Habib whispering out orders.

    In seconds Heather’s glowing mist had surrounded them, pulsing with light but still not as bright as it used to be. The sudden darkness that had taken over the camp seemed to be dampening the light, gnawing on it as with malicious intent. But in what light there was Karak could see fear plastered on everyone’s faces, save for Habib who looked as grim as ever. And save for his own face, of course. A little darkness can’t scare me.

    The moaning continued to whisper across the camp, for a moment reminding Karak of that narrow corridor back under the desert, where they had been attacked by zombies. The memory unsettled the big man greatly and his eyes darted about the environs, fully expecting to catch sight of the undead bastards yet again.

    “By Melandru.” Karissa whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

    “Afraid, aren’t you?” Jala said suddenly from right beside Karak.

    Karak turned to look at her with weapon in hand. How the heck did she get there so fast?

    “It’s good to be afraid.” She continued. “Afraid of Death himself.”

    From out in the distance across the Desert a thin beam of blue light shot up into the night sky, for a moment illuminating the camp with crystal-clear clarity. Karak studied the beam for a moment, and then the stench of rotting flesh slammed into his nostrils like a physical blow. The muffled sounds of marching footsteps crunching dried earth drowned out the moaning and suddenly Karak realised what was happening.

    “Wraiths! To me!” Habib whispered-hissed, raising his sword in the gloom.

    Everyone clustered around the old man, weapons drawn, including Jala. She looked very nearly scared out of her wits, and Karak could not blame her. If he was someone else – someone less than a born warrior – he might have been afraid as well.

    “Zombies, Habib?” he asked the old warrior.

    “Worse, Karak. We have an entire undead army on our hands.”

    “Shit on a biscuit. So what’s the plan?”

    “We must destroy the source.” Karissa said, inclining her head towards the general direction of the hillock.

    “He can’t still be alive!” Heather replied. “Nothing could survive phoenix fire. Nothing!”

    The earth rumbled beneath their feet and then from the hillock there burst several twisting arms of chain, curling and whipping about in the air. They carried a ghastly, bluish hue, like that beam of light across the Desert, and each one seemed to be moving of its own accord.

    “Did you honestly think that you would get away from me, Karak? Did you think that Dana would get away? Did you think that any of you would? ” A terrible voice sounded in Karak’s mind.

    For a moment the warrior’s vision blurred, and his head ached with the pain of a thousand needles.

    “Every sheep returns to the fold. Those that refuse will die. The entire world will die. I am the Master!”

    The hillock erupted into riven shards of earth and stone, and a huge, dark shape rose from the ruin, towering over the camp like one of the gods of old. Karak gritted his teeth against the pain as he rested his gaze on the large figure and realised with a growing sense of horror how uncannily similar the thing looked to the giant demon the Wraiths had faced down beneath the Desert.

    But then as the stench of the undead grew, as the pain in his head intensified, fire once again burned in his veins. I’m coming for you, Farrion. Wherever the hell you are. Nothing will stop me!