Sitting upon an obsidian throne, shadows swirling and lightning crashing all around; a nefarious grin crept across Malyc’s face. He chuckled at Travance squirming from the mayhem he had sewn. The Soul Guardian was drawn out into the trap, but the ants managed to save Shamis before the corruption was complete. It did not matter that he failed to see his scheme prove successful; the real prize had finally revealed himself. Gamaliel had shown himself to one of the mortals and so the hunt will soon to begin. It would only be a matter of time before the last true Guardian called out to the mortal once more, and when that time came, the lord of the dark pantheon would claim him.

The Spirit Realm felt the full brunt of Malyc’s will. Though Travance was successful in saving the Soul Guardian and several of the plagued healers, others across the world were not so fortunate. The miasma of the realm turned stale with the return of many new Harvestors. After the destruction Pesmerga, Malyc had finally reclaimed much territory he once held in his fist. Perhaps Travance itself was safe for now, but with new knowledge about the Obelisk of Spirits, that too would fall in time...

*     *     *     *     *

A soft wind danced across the land with calm warmth, bringing a feeling of refreshment from the harsh frozen winter. The Heroes of Travance would have a moment of respite from the dark god’s assault. It would be a welcome breath of fresh air in the material realm for however long it would last. Others wouldn’t be so fortunate as Malyc turned his eye beyond Travance to less willful and arrogant people. A sinister breath rolled from his vile tongue, “...If their wills will not bend, perhaps their loved ones will not be as strong …”