The voice belongs to Sandskar. The Ancient had followed him here. Still in his cloak form. "What the fuck...." Kyrexiel muttered, he sat up, and ignored all the people shying away from him.
"You're here, Sandskar. Why?"
When Sandskar spoke, it was directly to his head. "I don't know. The portal should have stopped me from crossing over but here I am. But it seems I can't change shape to my real self or use most of my powers."
Kyrexiel sighed. He would have to deal with that later, for now– he stood up, the black cloak around him warping around him as the guards pointed their weapons at him.
One guard shuddered and whispered. "I hope he's not mad like when Malak first returns."
Kyrexiel looked at Malak who was grinning in front of him, his bald head shining. "I lost."
