It promised him oblivion. The wind was a sweet siren song that echoed promises of destruction. Chaos, ruin and desolation seemed to spur it on as the wind swirled up and carelessly scattered the dust of ages long gone. He could taste the faint metallic taste of the dust. Tugging his cloak closer against him, Ash stepped into the swirling darkness.

Her voice echoed through the darkness. It was a sweet siren song promising tender torture and exciting revelations with each new source of pain discovered. Strumming and plucking his emotions the sweet seduction of her voice beckoned and called with every soft whisper. He felt like a puppet on a string. Unable to resist, Ash took a step forward. Soon it was followed by another and still another. With each step that he took dread filled him. An icy cold snake encircled his heart until it was a sheer fight to continue breathing. Still his legs kept walking forward, pulled by the lure of her voice. I have to stop, a single thought echoed desperately. For a brief moment his legs faltered in mid-step before continuing forward on their march. Stop. He no longer could remember what he came to do. All that he had craved for, all that he had ever wanted was… was destruction – oblivion. This was his reason for coming here. This is what has defined him with every step that he took. The lilt in her voice suggested that he has reached a pivotal moment. It promised him oblivion.

“You came at last.” Her voice was unlike anything that he had expected. It promised him oblivion. Like a sweet siren song that echoed promises of destruction and desolation it beckoned to him. “Of course there was no doubt that sooner or later you would return here.” He could taste the faint metallic trace of ancient dust in the air. They must be somewhere in an enclosed space. Sending out his senses he failed to discover any suggestion of walls. It must be a big room, a hall of some kind. Shadows stirred around him, dancing quietly, expectedly. Clenching the Zen’ghar tighter, Ash blinked. “Returned? What do you mean?”

“Ash Deni’vor, don’t you recognise it? I would have thought that even one as lost as you would remember.” Remember. He had to remember. Trailing pieces of cloth from his torn cloak flapped in the slow wind like beating wings. A slow, potent power throbbed from within Zen’s wooden body. In a way it was a reminder that he was not alone here in the heart of darkness. He grimaced, closing his eyes. She said that I had returned.

“You belong here Ash.”

“You are mistaken. I belong to nobody but myself.” Her laugher echoed all around him. “Do you really believe that, Lost One?” Still he couldn’t trace the source of her voice. Quietly Ash started to recite the mantra of focus. He would be prepared for whatever she might throw at him. “Destruction. Despair. Oblivion. Do these concepts not call out to you? Do you not recognize the basic truth within your spirit? The power that you wield is born of these concepts. That staff you covet is an avatar of destruction, despair and desolation given shape and form by your willpower and mine. By wielding Zen’ghar you have become an agent of entropy, Ash. Destruction. Despair. Oblivion. This is the natural order of things!”

Ash growled under his breath. In a twisted way her logic made sense. Destruction and despair had brought him here, to her. He wanted to destroy her and free the world from her vileness. In order to accomplish that impossible goal he had to secure Zen’ghar, the staff of Desolation.

“Is it not time to let go of your morality, the feeble chains with which you control your basic instincts?” The wind swirled angrily.