The path leads along the side of a slow-moving stream, the water black under the clouded sky. After a little while, you become aware of a flickering light ahead, and as you move closer, you find yourself walking among the ruins of some ancient building—a temple, perhaps, though all that remains are crumbling arches and pillars.
Three torches on long poles are planted in the ground to form a triangle at the center of the ruins, in the middle of which sits a man, a sword at his side. Even though his back is to you, you know this must be Zhan-Ukhel. He is chanting something under his breath, and as you watch, strands of mist begin to coalesce above him until they form a swirling mass about the size of a fist which darts to one of the torches and disappears into the flames.
Whatever ritual is taking place here, it leaves you with a feeling of intense unease. As you watch, the strands of mist once again begin to gather above the sorcerer. It is time to act.