Drennard stood in front of Canna's cabin door, his knuckles just about to knock when Mortem's bony hand phased cleanly through the wooden surface. The shadowy necromancer glared at Drennard with his usual sharp gaze, his voice flat and direct. "My master is asleep. What do you want?"
Drennard, long accustomed to Mortem's bluntness, didn't flinch. "We're near Giant's Island," he said, his voice a mix of worry and respect. "This is as far as we dare to go. Any closer and we'll be expecting trees or huge rocks to be hurled at us."
Mortem's eyes, hollow and gleaming, shifted toward the distant island. Even from where the ship had paused, he could feel the energy emanating from the land—a dense, oppressive presence that made his shadowy form shiver slightly. Without another word, Mortem nodded and phased back through the door, into the cabin.
