Deep within the caves, just as the last of the candles began to flicker and dim, the young wizard focused his prepared arcane energies into the crimson circle.  His hand still throbbed from the slice of the curved dagger, but his own blood would be little needed when the preparations were complete.<br/><br/>Seven skulls sat upon the seven points of a pentacle drawn within, staring outward and soaking in the dim light of the flames to make the various carved runes glow.  Many had kept the secret, passing it on like a mantra, but he had been fortunate enough to be born in the time of the Alignment of Harrowing.  Soon, soon the rifts would open and bathe him in the pure power that only he was worthy to bear.  Soon he would claim this pathetic plane for his own.<br/><br/>"In here, sire!" came a voice from outside the cave.  "The disturbance can only be coming from this cave."  Steel came free of scabbards as unimaginative fools came inside.<br/><br/>"You're too late," the wizard cried, reaching out his hand past the circle.  Coruscating dark energies slipped and slithered around his fingers, feeding their energy to him as the shadows thickened.  "Unless you plan to be my playthings and test my newfound power.  Then you're just in time."<br/><br/>"You monster," cried the priestess who had sniffed him out.  "How could you-" Yet her words were cut off without even a scream as the necrotic beam leapt from his hand to embrace the holy woman.  She didn't even have time to scream, though her jawbone dropped open in a silent cry before the dust that was once her body hit the ground.<br/><br/>Three arrows struck him and he laughed, absorbing their structure into dark shafts of light which only fed into his form.  The last bowyer panicked, shooting wide with a bolt that bounced across the cave.  "Welcome to the space between the darkness," he mocked them.  "Welcome to the unending cold fire and the-"<br/><br/>The errant arrow struck into a stalagmite, shattering it and sending the pieces sprawling into the circle.  One struck against one of the skulls, knocking it to the side and squashing the candle.  An explosion permeated the cave, sending hideous burns across the wizard's body, and the poor shot gave his buddies a grin as if he'd planned it all along.<br/><br/>As the wizard writhed, the captain of the guard strode forward and pointed his sword down at the wretched mage.  "You stand accused of dark magic, murder of a priestess of Selune and two elite kingdom guards," the captain said.  "We'll make sure your wounds are healed well enough for a proper execution.  What name do you want on your tombstone?"<br/><br/>The wizard tried to grin through the excruciating torment.  Names had meaning, even if he didn't know how to use them himself, and he was more than smart enough to erase any trace of his own.  He opened his mouth to try to taunt the guard, to spit blood on his boots or anything else he could, but only managed a "Rhak" through the agony.<br/><br/>"Guards," said the captain, "take Rhak back to the castle and down to the dungeon."