"Don't fight it. Let yourself drift. Don't be afraid," Nagulaj's gentle voice rang out.
Vrenli tried to overcome his fear. He let the gust of wind carry him further and further south-east. When he realized that his fear was unfounded, he relaxed and looked down at the barren landscape. Leafless, thin-branched trees, thorny bushes and faded grass grew sporadically on the deserted plain. The gust of wind carried Vrenli to the ruins of the city of Zatranos, which lay on the southern border of the valley of Tongar Gor, and suddenly it became frighteningly dark around him, so dark that even the moonlight was unable to penetrate the darkness.
Vrenli was shrouded in an impenetrable shadow, from which he emerged a few moments later. He was now hovering above the ruined city and looking up at a hill where he recognized the outline of a castle. He was carried closer. A figure in dark clothes and a cloak, sitting on the skeleton of a horse whose eyes glowed, rode out of the castle onto the crumbling bridge above a blood-red river.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. As he turned his gaze to the river, he recognized the dead bodies of countless humans, elves, dwarves, Tawinnians, ogres, goblins and other creatures and animals floating in the river. It was their blood that colored the water.
Vrenli turned his attention back to the dark rider who had led his horse to the precipice in front of the crumbling bridge. The figure raised his right hand and pointed north, whereupon the skeleton reared up and neighed. When the figure became aware of Ornux, it paused and a mocking smile played around its lips.
Vrenli was frightened when he saw Ornux, but he listened attentively from a lofty height.
"Ornux, a shadow who dares to enter the realm of the dead. What brings you to me?"
"Azrakel, I come on behalf of Erwight of Entorbis to make an offer. An offer that should interest even a soulbinder like you," he replied, standing imperturbably before the rider.
Azrakel laughed coldly.
"And what offer could that be, shadow mage? What could Erwight offer me that I don't already have?"
With a movement that darkened the air around him, Ornux invoked the power of the shadows.
"The dead of the coming battle for Wetherid, Azrakel. All souls that fall will be yours, added to your ranks of the undead, as your thralls."
Azrakel's interest was piqued.
"All souls, you say? A tempting offer, but why should I trust Erwight of Entorbis? His ambitions are well known to me."