The black marble door rose before them like a verdict. Ten meters high, six wide, carved from a single block. Fourteen seals glowed upon its surface — The Mountain, The Winged Ones, The Dead Sea, The Guilds, The Mystic Rings, The Black Power, The White Moon, The Red Force, The Light, Le Sacre, The Dragon, Jade, Nerecleiss, The Howling Hammer.

To open it, the consent of every guild was required. Silas and the others returned to the Temple of the Sacre, where Herald awaited them, grim. Magla had fallen. Darius was dead.

Herald rallied the guilds one by one. Ten agreed. The Red Force was nowhere to be found. The Black Power — Balrog demanded Rastacan's black gem. Out of the question.

They returned to the door. Grundar broke the seal of Nerecleiss with the sword — an explosion of golden light. Elyndra spent all her magic to crack and shatter the seal of the Black Power. Only one seal remained. The Red Force.

And suddenly, Layseriuss appeared — emerging from the shadows, his red crystal mask reflecting their faces.

— Héréclès the Bloody has received his tribute, he said in a cavernous voice. Four deaths. Three centuries of waiting. And the blood of a serpent god. The Bloody One is sated.

He laid his hand upon the last seal. It dissolved.

The black marble door trembled. Then, with a terrible rumble, it opened.

Beyond stretched absolute darkness. And in that darkness, something was moving. Something immense. Something that was breathing.