After five grueling days of riding, Lucinde finally arrived at The Scourge, the accursed land where the Great Dark had left its last mark on the earth. She had managed to cut down her travel time from weeks to days by enchanting her horse's hooves with an Unwavering spell, making them immune to fatigue and injury.

But spells wear off. 

Her exhausted horse now lay dead at her feet, beaten and bruised from the ride.

She could walk from here.

Barren, parched, and charred, the land stretched out before her. A league behind her, the grass had turned to stone. The air reeked of decay, as if a feast had been left to spoil in the sun. Above her, a grey sky mocked her with a bright sun that offered no warmth. And looming in the distance, a mountainous bluff awaited her. It seemed smaller than she remembered, though she still had half a day's walk to reach it. But then again, she had been on the other side of the fight last time, not marching towards her enemy with the key to their victory in her hands. A knot formed in her throat, and she clenched her jaw to keep it down. She dared not think about who or what controlled her actions.

But she knew.

Ever since the Shattering, the Great Dark had found a way to enslave weak souls through their dreams. It invaded their subconscious and twisted their thoughts and emotions to serve its will. It warped reality so subtly that the victims had no clue they were its puppets. If it succeeded in dominating someone's mind completely, through a mysterious process, they became a Usurper - one who could speak to the Great Dark directly. Many wars in history had been sparked by Usurpers with some influence. The last Raven was rumored to be a Usurper, but no one could prove it.

Holding her knapsack with the scrolls tightly, she tried to convince herself that this was her own choice. She shook off the doubt that she was under some dark spell. Her steps felt like lead. Was this the right thing to do? If she went through with this, she could reunite with her son. Her husband, her sister, her lover - she had missed them for almost 500 years.

She would never be alone again.

She would never be afraid.

Guilt settled in. She hated that she was so weak. That she could not stand the pain of her losses. That she would betray her entire world for a chance at happiness.

What did it really want with these scrolls? Was it simply to stop the resurrections, or was there some other great malice unknown to her about to rise?

Her mouth dried and her cheeks scorched as she reached the bluff. An entrance was carved into the face of the mountain. It was simply a large hole. The closer she got to it, the hotter she felt, as if the air itself was steam escaping from a vent in the earth.

"Enter," her mind told her. She had to duck to fit inside the hole. Quickly, she found a stairwell that led to a series of tunnels - a catacomb. Following the largest tunnel into its depths, she reached what looked to be the main chamber.

Inside, an old man lay on an altar next to a small burning fire. Who she saw made her heart stop. It could not be. He should not be alive. She had watched him die in the Great War. She had seen his ashes float towards the Light. It had been Marcus himself who had pierced his heart all those years ago.

Yet here he was. The Raven. The Shadowbringer. Though he was different - older, frailer, decrepit-looking - it was still him. How had he survived?

"Shadowbringer," she heard herself whisper.

From where he lay, he turned his head and looked her over. He opened his mouth but did not speak. A dark mist poured out of his throat to the ground. It swirled around the bottom of the chamber in succulent waves and made its way towards Lucinde. When he was emptied of his black host, he sat up, stood, and made his way slowly over to her. He could barely walk, but he reached out for her and smiled.

The encompassing mist circled them both.

"You have something for me," he casually took the knapsack that Lucinde had been clutching in her arms.

As soon as she released it, the mist was upon her. It engulfed her. It made its way inside her through her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her skin. She felt as if her soul was being pulled from her body and being replaced with dirt. She could not move, she could only watch as the Shadowbringer reached into her bag and pulled out the Earth scroll. She thought this must be her end. A sense of relief washed over her. She'd be reunited with her loved ones soon.

The Shadowbringer unrolled the scroll and began to recite the words he knew were on the page. After each verse, he began to change. His hair turned from dark grey to silken white. His wrinkled skin became young and smooth and ivory. He grew taller and his stance widened. When he was finished, he rolled the scroll back up and put it back in the knapsack. He took a deep breath and then threw back his head in a hearty laugh.

Lucinde had fallen and lay on the ground. Her host had completely consumed her. Her thoughts silenced. She no longer felt alone. She no longer felt afraid. She no longer felt anything.

The revived Raven, the Shadowbringer, walked over to her and helped her to her feet. He gave her back the knapsack. "You know what needs to be done."

"Yes, Shadowbringer," Lucinde replied, but he just hissed back at her.

"A weak name, given by the Light," he spat at her feet. "My name is Ivar El'Athan, and I am your Lord."

"Yes, Lord El'Athan," Lucinde felt compelled to bow her head in a sign of respect, but an inkling of contempt ran through her veins. She walked to the fire that was still burning beside the altar. She threw the knapsack that contained the remaining four scrolls into the flames. A surge of colors released and frizzled out into the air.

El'Athan laughed again. "Come, let's go wake some friends."