[Suzerain of Sheol]

NOW!

The moment gleams with horrendous promise, frozen possibilities splayed stark before his prowling gaze. As the sword descends, injecting toxic light into the spirit, Shealtiel seizes upon the sudden weakness in the Murderer. The ancient soul lies exposed, helpless, made mortal by the cursed blood tethering him to this realm.

Gnarled fingers reach out in rictus, bones bulging and snapping as unearthly powers course out of their tips. Cracked teeth groaning and splitting, exploding in bursts of blood and marrow as living darkness erupts from the necromancer's mouth. His eyes detonate, spraying ichor into the haze, leaving gaping holes into Sheol's pits behind.

As the torrent of sorcery mingles with Uriel's fire, Shealtiel's body dissolves, divesting itself of not only the life-energy he was gifted by Asasiah, but of the very vitality of his soul. He has taken the final step from the world of the living, letting the energies of Abaddon embrace him at his deepest essence, opening a conduit between himself and the dying Emim.

As the flesh sloughs from his bones, as bones wither to dust, Shealtiel begins to feast...