February 11th, 1435 A.E., In the dungeon of Thalor's black spire.

Even without the power of the Tain, the walls of the dark spire were broken. The forces of Llancarfan swept into the fortress, laying sword to bone against Myrkridia and undead alike. Within minutes, the defenders of the keep lay dead or dying, and the army of Llancarfan stood victorious.

Connacht and his men searched the corpses strewn about the courtyard-yet, the Pack-Mage was not among them. An old and crumbling passage led into darkness beneath the spire. It was the only means of escape.

Connacht began gathering a small group of veterans at the archaic passage. They were to follow the Pack-Mage into the bowels of the keep-and make sure it never drew another breath.

A dwarf did suggest that they simply should destroy the spire, bringing it down upon the beast's cowering head. Connacht replied that they must be absolutely sure that this Pack-Mage was slain-not just buried alive.

One erudite scholar of the Heron Guard seemed to grasp Connacht's concern. He recalled an obscure legend dating back to the end of the Age of Reason. Moagim, having brought the Myrkridia into this world, began to teach them the ways of battle-and of sorcery. The most learned and powerful of his students was a Myrkridia who dubbed itself 'Thalor the Black'.

As the legend tells, so powerful was Thalor's sorcerous abilities, that he could halt the workings of magical relics or even destroy them from afar. He created a powerful artifact known only as the 'Eye of Thalor'-into which it infused its very soul. If its body were to meet death, the device could conjure a new body from it's ashes, granting the fell beast life eternal. If the Pack-Mage that held this spire was indeed Thalor the Black, his death would be the end of the Myrkridia.

Connacht merely nodded at the Heron.

With his force assembled, Connacht led them into the crumbling dungeons of the dark fortress-hunting for the most powerful Myrkridian sorcerer ever to live...