The black magician stood at the line. The line cut the world in two. On one side there was life-giving sparkling death, delightful, bewitching, maddening death, on the other - everything ended and there was nothing. No captivating grave captivity, no delightful cemetery rot - nothing... Only the dull emptiness of life, sprinkled with the dull ashes of human existence. Strange creatures, similar to shadows, devoid of magic, doomed to life, swarmed in this emptiness, and the magician could not give them the joy of death. Although I should have. He promised.

He... The Mage of Death. Murderer. The best assassin of the Order of the Black Towers. A magician who killed himself, but lingered on the Threshold to bring death to others.