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[Kaelthir]

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A gust of warm air from the desert blew a few dead leaves along Charnel Hill. The area was strangely quiet, even the lost souls ceased their howling. For the last several years since the Paladins attacked the Ebon Skull, its bond with Oblivion slowly corroded to the point where the Skull itself became unstable. The warm breeze caressed the Skull, passing by its weakened cold aura with ease and stroking its smooth surface. In that instant, the bond between the Ebon Skull and Oblivion severed, much like a thread holding a weight being cut. Without anything to control its remaining energies the Ebon Skull reduced itself to dust, sending bands of energy spiraling across the landscape in all directions. Necromancers in Umbra all looked up from their studies, feeling the residual energy flow past. A skeletal servant of Oblivion looked up quickly in the direction of Charnel Hill, feeling that split second as a drawn out eternity where his mind cried out in pain before pure and utter silence. He remained still, having no guidance from Oblivion he felt lost. Yet, a sense of freedom overtook him. It was chilling feeling this all at once.



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A decisive battle about to take place, the skeletal lords stood together going over battle plans. However the pitch black sky was quickly pulled, each dazula and drezkel looked out in the same direction at the same time. Much of the energy dedicated to this realm seemed to shift suddenly, it almost felt as though thousands of hands grasping out at once for something. The lords looked amongst each other, their bound minds trying to find any sort of answer among one another. A wraith priest flew with haste towards them from their alter and spoke with fear in its voice.
"M-masters, this is urgent. We need to stall the battle... And you, my lord...." The wraith said after bowing its head to one of the lords, "... You need to commune immediately, something terrible has happened."

The energy in the lord's eye sockets glew brightly as he gave the priest a nod and quickly headed to the alter. The realm was at its knees, in a few more battles the remaining human forces would be defeated, and all remaining life could easily be razed. He worried about what the news could be if its importance outweigh that of the battle. He looked forward to the destruction of this realm so energy could be sent to a nearby realm- his home- without running the risk of spreading Oblivion's power too broadly among this cluster of realms, lest more sparks of life take hold. Kneeling down at the alter, he lowered his skull and let his mind become one with Oblivion. He quickly was rushed with a number of messages, each describing the same catastrophic event: Contact with his home realm was severed rather suddenly. There was no method for him to return. His bones trembling, he let out a loud screeching howl. So many souls lost from Oblivion's grasp, his skull lowered to the floor almost in pain from the scale of his failure.