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[Deacon Drake]

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Yew, Felucca, nearly six months ago...

With a brilliant flash of violet-white light, the rift sealed itself, sending shock waves for miles. Everything within ten yards was obliterated--the ruins around it simply ceased to exist.

The Blackrock Exile was no more. All that was left was parched ground, dead grass, split trees... and him.

He stood--that is, he appeared to stand, but rather hovered--at the core of the devastation. He was nothingness, the sheer essence of oblivion... the manifestation of nonexistance. He was an empty hole in space-time where a man once stood.

He combed the region around him with cold, piercing yellow eyes. Disgusting place, he thought. He let his feet rest on the ground, and the overwhelming black around him began to dissipate. In his right hand he held his prize, a long black staff that harnessed the very energy of death. In his left hand he held a simple black unlit lantern.

Without second thought the entity turned to the north and began walking toward the Yew moongate. He had but one destination: Umbra.
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