Aside you . The blade that is the one true Mask . Less you cull and yank the very power from the god. I grant your boon on the condition of something returned. You've done well to doom Cyric to his prison. But the bony maw hungers. And you have the means to provide.

. . . You've a mind clouded in shadow t'would make even Shar find the light comforting . One has misjudged your intention. Sick and vile are the single thoughts in your mind. And for that one finds it.. admirable .

You are awake. Your body healed, your eyes rested —

Ascension. Freedom .

Thick blacken blood bubbles as it surfaces from the soil. The faint sound of creaking bones and the moaning earth heralds his arrival. Myrkul, from its dormant slumber, awakens .

This vile darkened temple once belonged to the black sun, but now, the lord of bone reclaimed it, as he would with all things. The eerie rattle of metal decor ring as the avatar turns to its devotee. " You, my acolyte. What transpires while in my slumber .. ? "

Mine prospect. It is time . Arise .

another one .

I will grant you rest for these short minutes. Then you arise .

Thou art a lich. Art thou not content? Less thou be large 'n gluttonous .

May it fester in your mind . For there is work to be done, and rest may come when all is absolute .

As is the price of being favored and detested by the pantheon . Thou will learn to balance it in time . Thou art still young .

A burden even the mad god could not handle . Still, one may grant you peace of mind if thou wishes so.