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[Grignag]

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Izrem had found himself with many moments to sit and meditate on the flow of Entropic energies that normally coalesced around the Stygian Grove, as he continued his work upon the Scholomance. He had noted the ebb of Entropic energies as the Entropy Field Generator had been diverted to supply power to his project and the retraction of the dark mist that normally covered the whole of the city and leaked into the surround provinces. Not that he thought anyone else within the Order, let alone outside, would ever notice. Such was the way of most in those era. Why tweak and manipulate when you could COMMAND? He imagined it was often why he saw so many warriors posing as mages these days and never any true wizards. Magic was viewed as a commoners tool, rather than the ultimate expression of understanding and capacity. Inelegantly wielded like some sort of crude cudgel. That was how most understood the lore and nature of mana. Izrem had sometimes reflected on how lost the virtue of "Spirituality" was lost on most. Indeed he wondered if any truly cared about try to martial their souls for something besides war.

These were all considerations he had managed to make time for during his preparations, but as his most recent project grew close to fruition his mind turned to the task at hand.

For even he had moments where subtlety wasn't required. Now it was a time to command. He had located the remnants of the ancient Scholomance, broken and shattered, within the Well of Souls. He had worked to reform it from within, rebuilding it into something magnificent and powerful. Now the time had come to pull it forth into the reality once more. The Ebon Spire had been banished back into the well to make room for the Scholomance. The Scholomance itself had begun to manifest but had only managed to do so partially. Izrem prepared the final incantations and collected the energy dredged from the souls of the Orders recent victims to rip open the doors of the ethereal and claim his prize.

Kneeling before the obscured image of the partially manifested Scholomance, Izrem chanted in low reverberating tones. All around the periphery of the building a small host of recently formed and enslaved ghouls mournfully chanted the necessary litanies and words of power required to maintain the growing tear in space. The sadness and anger in their tone for the most recent murders committed against them was not lost on Izrem. Absently some part of him wondered if anyone would care of their passings for the sake of such a magnificent scheme? At the same time, another part of him fully understood that he didn't care. They served a purpose far grander than any they would have achieved in their own dull lives. And when he was finished, Izrem would grant them the sweet release of Oblivion. He was, after all, a merciful person.

As the hole in space widened an increasingly loud hum begin to quiver the air around the Grove. Lances of black lightening arced around the outline of the Scholomance as the Well of Souls fought to maintain its possession. After all, the Well of Souls was never formed to "give anything back". But this was necessary. As Izrem incantations reached a crescendo, a crackle could be heard popping and hissing in the air, as if a massive lightening bolt were preparing to descend. As Izrem spoke the final word there was a sudden silence and rush of wind inwards, towards the Well of Souls. Izerm barely had the time to register the moment before a massive thunderclap exploded outwards from the well, ripping the stuff of the ghouls apart as they screamed and flinging Izrem through the air like a rag doll and smashing him against the walls of Charnel Hill. A sudden burst of dark clouds rolled out from the Grove once more to cover the lands of Umbra again. The entropic field stabilized after the rush of unadulterated chaotic power reached to its farthest range once more.

All fell quiet once more as various members and citizens of Umbra ran to discover the cause of the entirely unexpected explosion. Izrem slowly dragged himself to his feet, feeling the aches and pains of several broken bones and places of internal bleeding. He disliked ever admitting that he underestimated the power he was working with, even after it had proven too much for him to handle. As he took note of others gathering he summoned the reserves of his willpower and stood upright before walking towards the fully manifested form of the Scholomance.

"Most have forgotten the purity of knowledge and the true power of magic." he noted aloud to no one in particular. "I shall remind Sosoria and all the facets of their true meanings. And with the embrace of Oblivion, none shall forget it. No matter how hard they try."

The assembled gathered watched Izrem ascend the stairs and disappear into the halls of the occult. For years had Izrem desired to gather unto himself all the ways and understandings of existence. For years he had gathered to himself the knowledge of empires come and gone, ancient and noviate. Now he had it. He was a true Keeper of the Gates at last.
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