[Suzerain of Sheol]

"We should not delay here. The hybrid will not soon wake from her coma, and her presence is a beacon we cannot afford to be tied to. Zaccheus and his men brook no threats to their sanctuary -- we need to pass unnoticed among them if we are to hope to find help here. If we are to hope to survive. Do you all comprehend this?

I will be of little aid to you, here. I must hide myself in the mists of Sheol -- they will sense nothing of my presence, but I will be... restrained. If Feenai is willing, I may be able to reach her mind and project to her my thoughts. Otherwise... you will be on your own, my friends. I advise caution.

If madness and slaughter should find us all the same, I will... do what I can, of that you may be assured. But do avoid acting... precipitously. Comply with their directives, obey their laws, and we may all survive this."

And all at once, the presence among them fades like a snuffed candle. It is quiet, humid, and the day is failing. Already the riven moon casts its incarnadine light across the sky. Far ahead, Thyat'ria stands defiant of the coming night, promising menace to any who would threaten its mighty walls.