So this is death. I’m dead. Aely’s dead. Even that bastard Tarquin is dead. All by my hand. I feel…nothing.
 
The warlock tried to take stock of what was around him. He saw nothing but blackness. He couldn’t be sure whether his eyes were open or closed. Attempting to feel something beyond the numbness that permeated him to his core was met with disappointment.
 
Somewhere, near or far he could not tell, he heard voices. Their words made little sense to him, but he was certain they were voices. He tried to …