Sensing a chnage in the very fabric of Time Immemorial, the tall, thin, red-tressed woman, in the now-glowing, flowing ebony cloak, almost like a Shadow of the Night, happened to raise her eyes, to look away from the gate, her goal forgotten for a moment. As her gaze swung round towards the castellated hill, she saw no thing in front of her. The castle, her last hope, the refuge she had been searching for for years ceased to exist.

Her pitch-black eyes widened in despair and amazement, as well as at the knowledge of what powers lurked in the Night of the Dead, powerful enough to have disturbed the Aethers of this Plane.

Alas, she had no more strength to fight. Throwing up her hands, clasping one to her mouth, lest an unstifled cry bring more Forces upon her, she collapsed, throwing herself upon a cold and starkly white sarcophogaus which epithet read,

Be Warned all Ye who may
Gather here;
Toucheth not the Stone
Nor look ye in the eye of the Raven
Seeketh not the Haunts of the Night
Nor the Seven Planes of the
Time of the Thirteenth Realms.
Heed ye well these words,
else join him, who lies beneath these,
thy Warning Words!