The creature that was once Zakarias Meng trudged through the darkness. His body misshapen and malformed by the interrupted rites days before. The collapse of the ancient stronghold of Rasu caused feedback and disruptions throughout his body. Spells and rites that he used to keep himself from withering away while carrying the will of Rasu broke, changed, and reformed themselves into new configurations. His back was bent and twisted like driftwood, strange boils and cysts growing on the raised hump. The muscles of his right arm grew over-large and misshapen. One side of his face grew knots of bone beneath the skin, creating strange lumps and protrusions and pulling his right eye out of place.

Before the disaster in the stronghold, he had looked suspicious, overly thin and pallid. Now he was a hideous, misshapen monster.

I have to get out of here. Zakarias thought, straining to put one foot in front of the other with twisted and inflamed knees. But if I do, where will I go? I failed the Dreadlords. There will be no crossings, no new foothold. If I return empty-handed, there will be consequences.

He shuddered at the memory of watching other failures suffer when they disappointed the Lord of Corruption. A sharp pain stabbed him in the belly and he froze, doubled-over in pain, trying to keep from collapsing to the black stone at his feet.

The roiling mass of corruption and foulness that made its home in his stomach shifted and pulsed. His connection to Rasu wanted to be fed. If he could not provide an adequate meal, then his own flesh would be forfeit to Corruptions eternal hunger.

It's growing, like a tumor. Zakarias thought, trying to focus on fact and distract his mind from the pain. I know it has already reached out tendrils within my body to form new nodes. If I do not find a source of power, mana beyond the ambient pool, then it will continue to grow and consume me. In a few days, I will be like one of the nameless horrors of Draenos.

With an effort of will, Zakarias exerted control over the mass of corruption within him. Mana stores long depleted, Zakarias burned another part of his tattered soul to feed the endless hunger. Slowly, the pain receded, the corruption mollified for now. Still, he could feel it writhing within him.

For the first day or so, Zakarias had defeated and consumed the souls of creatures in the Underlands, but recently they had become sparse. It was as if everything was being drawn somewhere upriver. Two days before, he felt a great surge of mana. Something had happened very close to where he was now.

Likely, it was the last stand of the Wayfarers. Zakarias thought. He had not spotted the bodies of the mercenaries he had hired for this escapade in the stronghold's rubble. The flashes of mana use he felt told him they were still out there, struggling against their inevitable defeat against the shadow. That they ended at the same time as the great mana surge meant they were likely dead.

Whatever killed them will be strong enough for the workings I need to do. Zakarias thought. I will need to be subtle. I am in no shape to face a foe of any great strength.

Mana pulsed in a strong heartbeat rhythm nearby. Zakarias could feel the power calling out to him, pulling him along like a dog on a leash. He had to be careful. Each creature in the shadow's service had its own agenda, its own needs and purposes. They might take what little power he had left instead of him using theirs.

Zakarias called to mind a simple spell, one to mask him from other living beings in the area. He wove the construct in his mind, a far more complex structure than the simple Talents that ordinary adventurers used. But it wasn't the mechanical, esoteric affair used by wizards, either. This was the wild magic of blood and shadow. This was sorcery.

The world warped around him, embracing him like a warm blanket. The spell locked into place, and he felt the thrum of released mana. A line of fiery pain ripped through Zakarias.

Mana burn, Zakarias thought. More spirit damage. I'll deal with that later.

The spell would cause creatures like Scalebacks and Hammerworms to ignore his presence, not notice his scent, or hear any noise that he caused. It would last long enough to get him to that well of mana he sensed, which should be enough to restore his strength.

And maybe undo some of the damage done to my body. Zakarias thought. He wasn't a vain man, but deformities like this would make interacting with average folk difficult. Though that part of my life may be over.

He climbed and trudged towards the mana source. Before long, he could see a faint purplish glow ahead.

Glowmoss? Zakarias thought. Seems too bright.

The glow resolved itself into the misshapen pillars of an ancient temple. Zakarias could feel the power of the shadow like a thick fog around the structure. Scalebacks lay dead on the rough-hewn stairs leading up to the temple. The bodies of the lizard-men bore the telltale desiccated look of beings who had their spirits drained. Zakarias had done it before during his initiation into sorcery at the Towers of Nathralan.

Something has feasted well. He thought, looking at the Scaleback warriors that had shrunken leathery husks. Their muscles had deflated into ropey cords and their hides had lost any sheen or luster.

Inside the temple itself was a similar story. Something drained the Scalebacks that had become separated from the group. From the tracks in the dust on the ground, the rest of the pack had not even slowed, or noticed that several members of their group had fallen.

Therium dust floated through the air like tiny motes of purple flame, adding to the overall strangeness of the place. The strange stone protrusions, blocking some areas and leaving others open, guided Zakarias as he shuffled through the temple's "halls."

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A Dungeon foundation, Zakarias thought. One that's almost ready to emerge. This may be even more advantageous than the Mossfen stronghold.

Eager to see what the temple had in store, Zakarias moved quickly to the center of the structure. He followed both his sense of the mana around him and the strange mathematical pattern of dungeoncraft.

The sight of the central chamber took his breath away. The nine heartstones throbbed with unreleased power. Zakarias felt the mana flavor of all nine of the Demon Lords. But the Shadow itself, the Eternal Night, that lay thick around the place. A latticework of energy wove around each of the emerging heartstones. It just needed a catalyst.

WE FEEL YOU, CHILD OF SHADOW. A powerful voice thundered in Zakarias' head. He instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, though it did nothing to dull the sound. YOU HAVE NO NEED OF SUCH TRICKS HERE.

Zakarias' spell fell apart like shattered glass. Instantly, he felt exposed, like a thousand eyes were staring at him.

THAT IS BETTER. The voice was a hundred voices speaking together, a crowd with a singular focus. AH, A CHAMPION OF THE DEFILER, CORRUPTER OF THE FLESH.

"I am Zakarias, Sorcerer of Nathralan, chosen by the Drae Lord Rasu to champion the shadow in these lands." Zakarias said, pleased that his voice was still steady. "What are you?"

THE CHILD OF SHADOW IS PROUD, BUT IGNORANT. The voices whispered, each syllable a sibilant echo. WE ARE A REMNANT OF A TIME LONG PAST, BEFORE THE FOLLY OF MALCONIA, BEFORE ALTAIRIUS MAGNUS SHATTERED THE WORLDSTONE, WE WERE A SHADOW OF A SHADOW AND NOW WE TOUCH THE WORLD AGAIN.

Zakarias recognized the word choices and the cadence. He'd heard it often enough when traveling through Draenos or from the leaders of the shadow cults in the northern mountains. A remnant of Noctus, a powerful place, if I can get the cascade started.

"Forgive my ignorance, Great One." Zakarias said, giving an awkward bow. It was the extent of what his corrupted body would let him do. "We haven't found a remnant of the Great Noctus in quite some time."

WHY IS THAT? The voices asked, plainly confused.

"The Great Lord was defeated at the Battle of the Palisade Pass." Zakarias said, intrigued.

If it does not know about Noctus' defeat, then this place must be incredibly old. Zakarias thought.

YOU LIE! The voices thundered, Zakarias staggered from the force of their psychic shout. THE ETERNAL NIGHT IS UNCONQUERABLE!

"Nevertheless," Zakarias said, voice strained as he fought to stay upright under the fury of the nine heartstones. "Our enemies destroyed his physical form and his spirit returned to the void. We have not seen him since."

WHO RULES THE SHADOW, THEN, IF NOT THE GREAT LORD? The voices asked, their unity fracturing in their confusion, creating a cacophony of dissonant sounds in Zakarias' mind.

"Much has changed since you last touched the world." Zakarias said. "Three others have fallen in battle since then, leaving their physical forms and joining Lord Noctus in the void. The other five have turned to their strongholds deep in the Drae lands, biding their time and awaiting the return of their brethren. The followers of the shadow take their orders from the Court of the Ebon Throne, who relay the will of our Princes and Princesses."

MORTALS IN COMMAND OF THE SHADOW? APPALLING. The voices sneered. WE CAN NOT LET THIS CONTINUE. WE SHALL BUILD A VESSEL FOR LORD NOCTUS AND PREPARE FOR HIS RETURN.

"As you say, Great Ones." Zakarias said, hiding a smirk.

YOU DOUBT US, SORCERER? The voices asked, anger focusing them into a kind of strange harmony. WE HAVE HAD MANY YEARS TO GROW IN STRENGTH HERE IN THE DARKNESS.

"I do not doubt your resolve, Great Ones." Zakarias said. "Only your resources. I can feel the deep well of mana you have cultivated, but the spirit animus you need to complete your transformation…it seems lacking down here."

Zakarias nudged the desiccated body of a Scaleback with the toe of one boot.

The voices were silent for a moment, heartstones pulsing through a blue and purple pattern as they contemplated this truth. WE DISLIKE YOUR WORDS, SORCERER, BUT WE SEE THE VALIDITY IN THEM. The sneer was gone, but the tone remained just as haughty. WE ARE SORELY LACKING IN STRONG SPIRITS TO COMPLETE OUR TRANSFORMATION. YOU MUST PROCURE THEM FOR US.

"Me?" Zakarias said, impressed with his own performance.

A bit of surprise, a bit of shock, add a dash of fear and excitement. Zakarias thought.

"But I'm just one sorcerer, wounded and suffering the effects of bearing Rasu's will. How can I possibly be of service?" Zakarias said, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick.

THERE IS NOTHING TO MITIGATE THE WILL OF THE LORD OF CORRUPTION, BUT YOU MAY USE OUR STRENGTH TO SUPPLEMENT YOUR OWN. The voices said, magnanimously. IT WILL ALLOW YOU TO SALVE YOUR WOUNDS AND RESTORE YOUR POWER.

And give me control of the next phase of your evolution. Zakarias thought.

"Thank you for this gift, Great Ones." Zakarias said, genuinely relieved to have access to so great a store of mana. "But there is still the problem of getting you powerful souls to induce your change."

THROUGHOUT THE YEARS WE HAVE FELT MANY SOULS COME CLOSE THAT WOULD BE OF USE. THEY COME FROM THE ABOVE LANDS AND HAVE A SETTLEMENT AT THE TOP OF THE FALLS TO THE NORTH OF HERE. The voices said, Zakarias could hear the hunger beneath their words. YOU SHALL ASSAULT THEIR SETTLEMENT AND BRING NINE SOULS BACK TO US.

Zakarias licked his lips. Now comes the tricky part.

"Again, your pardon, Great Ones. How can I take on a settlement full of such powerful beings? The shadow walks with me, but alas, I am only one man." Zakarias said, spreading his hands in faux humility.

YOU ARE MORE THAN JUST ONE MAN. The voices said in a sly tone. YOU ARE A CHAMPION OF THE DEFILER. ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO CREATE UMBILICI?

Zakarias paused. It was something he actually hadn't considered.

"Who would I use the Umbilici on, Great Ones?"

As if in answer, glowmoss bloomed around a shadowed crevice at the base of a pillar. The moss illuminated a Scaleback bull, its face scarred and one eye dull and blind. Black tendrils of ooze bound it to the pillar. The scarred bull stared out at Zakarias with unblinking hatred.

"Yes." Zakarias said. "They should do nicely. How many are there?"

WE HAVE USED THIS ONE TO CALL TO HIS TRIBE. The voices said, pride coloring their tone. THEY ARE COMING AND THEY ARE LEGION.

Zakarias smiled, a deeply satisfied smile of one who had stumbled onto the greatest of fortunes. He focused on the roiling mass in his stomach. It churned and writhed, separating into chunks and then smaller and smaller pieces. With an effort of will, Zakarias focused on one particular piece and summoned it to him.

His stomach convulsed, and he dry heaved. Spittle flew as he felt the tiny shard of corruption flowing up his throat. Zakarias retched, his stomach heaving painfully. Finally, he felt a small object in his mouth, wriggling against his tongue.

He reached into his mouth and pulled out a pale, pulsing grub about the length of his little finger. It squirmed between his fingers. Tiny threads of cilia reached blindly out, searching for something.

Zakarias panted and gave the Scaleback a smile that was anything but comforting. The creature's single eye shone with an emotion that gave Zakarias a surge of pleasure. He approached the restrained Scaleback, which thrashed and hissed, trying to get away.

The ooze tightened itself around the Scaleback, holding it still. Zakarias dropped the Umbilici next to the Scaleback's good eye. The pleasure in seeing the proud creature's terror, as the Umbilici sought its eye socket, then burrowed into the soft flesh…

It was indescribable.

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