As his mortal life neared its end, he took great satisfaction in knowing he had doubtless earned a seat at the gods’ table, in the glorious Hall of Bones, for all eternity.

Yet, when he died, he found no halls or glory awaiting him. Instead, Sahn-Uzal stood in an empty, gray wasteland, shrouded by ethereal fog and plagued by discordant whispers. Occasionally, other lost souls drifted nearby—little more than ghostly shapes, wandering their own personal oblivion.

Anger consumed Sahn-Uzal. Had his faith been false? Or was his domination of the world simply not enough to grant him the immortality he craved? Surely this emptiness could not be all there was… yet there seemed no end to it. He watched as the lesser spirits slowly faded into the fog, unmade and lost to time.

But Sahn-Uzal refused to fade.