I sat still in front of my scrying pool, watching my master make his way into the Shadow Hold. Grimgrave was silently following him, his burning gaze focused straight ahead. My master was gripping his great scythe with both hands. His eyes were wide open and he looked feverish. I knew that look. It bordered on madness. The two made their way carefully inside the hold, slowly going deeper and deeper into the seemingly never-ending corridor. Arcane torches were burning a sickly green on the walls. This place was infused with Fel energies; I could feel it in my very bones. There came a low rumbling sound, like the ones great cats of Stranglethorn make just before pouncing on top of an unsuspecting prey. Kirtash stopped dead in his tracks. Grimgrave made his way in front of him, to shield hi