The Deathless were retreating from the Tomb of Ariel, leaving a vast swath of the desert around it empty.
Now, only the remnants of the invading army were left on the white sand in front of the towering black edifice of the great pyramid. Azarax and his undead warriors grew still, a sea of them facing the vast expanse of Ariel's Hell. The scattering of battered shades was still slowly moving away from the mouth of the enormous tunnel, led by Saint.
In the pale radiance of the distant stars, her eerily beautiful face was still and emotionless, her flawlessly white stonelike skin smeared with ruby dust.
Slayer was apart from everyone, still in the form of a monstrous lioness, her sable fur darker than the night. Her hide was covered in ghastly wounds, and she was breathing heavily, shrouded in a mantle of ghostly fog.
Sunny shivered and turned to the Tomb of Ariel, sensing a dreadful swarm of shadows escaping from it into the night sky.
"Nephis…"
