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The two of them were quick on their feet as the world became near complete darkness except for the leaking purple light. So strong was the wind of Shysh now, with all the death that was around them, that they could physically see as the winds drifted through the chambers. That purple light that leaked from the cracks in the castle swept through the chamber, becoming more and more like a hurricane as the magic seeped into the land itself.
Adok was cursing under his breath to the gods as they came into the final chamber before escaping outside. There they saw him, the Grail Knight which they had revealed to be a fraud, standing once more as if he was filled with life once again. Now though, instead of the white witchfire that danced upon them was a purple so dark that it would be called Black to those who witnessed it in person.
The Black Grail Knight glanced at the two of them for a moment, then opened the doors.
The Black Grail Knight had opened the doors to hell.
Across the battlefield where they were certainly going to win was instead a massive rebound of fortunes. The Winds of Shysh, under the possession of Nagash, had swept through the corpses of those who had fallen from Plague and Battle. Eased back onto their feet with unnatural powers that were beyond their own, they attacked the still living Knights who had pledged to fight under Lucian’s banner even when disease ravaged their bodies.
The Lance which was led by Gillot had been blunted by the sudden onslaught. The others who had joined him were similarly tortured as they fought to keep the living dead from tearing them off their horses. The great Dragon Satharifax fought for his life with torches of flame decorating the scene as those whose flesh he turned to ash walked again as charred skeletons.
Among all of them was Bok, once more defending his Skink as the Lizard fought against the magic itself.
When Lucian looked up, he could see it. He saw the very sun which had damned the civilization of Nehekhara and was here to do the same. Blacking out the sky with what must have been the manifestation of Nagash’s own magic was the Sun of Xereus.
Underneath the sun of death manifest was a warrior who wore red and black armor. His face already bloodied from a fresh victim of his hunger, a creature of darkness hung in the air.
Lucian felt his blood curdle as he saw this man, for his blood knew who he was. He was the man who had slaughtered so many of his people in times past and had threatened the lands of Aquitaine with his madness.
Only in legend was his name known to Lucian. He was the Scourge of Aquitaine, the Blood-Kissed Duke, but Lucian knew him from what the Peasants called him.
The Red Duke, whose armor was dyed with the blood of his people.