The dead served her. The dead did her bidding, and in many ways, Shana related more to the dead than she did to the living. The stories they told quickened her heart and brought her comfort and joy in the darkness, and she had become so enamored in their world that she hardly fit into the world of the living anymore.<br/><br/>In the beginning, her art was pure in its form, perfect in its purpose, a wizened oracle, she consulted the dead and released them to their rest. At some point she had become corrupted, and had started the practice of creating Shadow Demons called Inamri, drawing beings from the Shadowlands into this world and binding them into the corpses of the living.<br/><br/>Now she who was once honored was reviled and feared, and she had crossed a line she could never come from from. She feared she would one day undergo a transformation into a creature of pure darkness, a Shadow Demon, a Master Inamri herself, losing her humanity completely.<br/><br/>But even though she knew he was coming, as Shana Raventhorne began to create her army of shadow demons, and draw her army of darkness around herself in preparation for the war she knew was coming. For his kind was righteous and dignified, pure in resolve, and he could not and would not ignore her presence forever.