"You cannot protect him for long, Ziva," replies Zhan-Ukhel, as you grip the crimson tabard of the armored warrior. "You know that I serve one more powerful than any of you. Chernobog's return is almost complete. This world will be his, and I will rule the mortal realms in his name."
"Maybe so, maybe not," rasps the masked figure, its voice twisted and discordant, as if several people were trying to speak at once. "We can see a little of the future. You, I think, cannot see past your own arrogance."
The warrior, who has remained silent until now, suddenly thrusts his mailed fist forward into the air, which seems to ripple before it. The sorcerer is lifted bodily from the ground and flung backward, and the world around you seems to warp and shift. As it does, you hear Zhan-Ukhel's voice once again.
"I'll find you, Basileios," he says. "In our own world, I'll find you and kill you, and no spirit or god will be able to protect you!"
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