Asaina al-Arqis read late into the day, poring over ancient texts for some reference to the gigantic bridgelike structure appearing and disappearing over the river near Holtburg. At dusk, soon after she'd lit her candle, a weariness stole over her that could not be explained by the warm spring air, and she soon bowed her head upon the desk. When she finally awoke much later, the larger moon had just begun to rise, and by its light, she could see the dead candle with barely a dimple around its wick. She began to stretch her arm, then stopped -- the desk was bare where her manuscripts had been.

Something rasped on the floor behind her, and she leapt from her chair. A bone-white figure clad in tatters emerged from the stacks. Its attention was bent over a book in one hand, and in its other, it held the missing parchments. Heart pounding, she cast about for escape as it slowly raised its head, to reveal eye sockets like pits floored with magma. She looked away. A lich! But who, and why?

"The fools in Frore," said the undead monster, "made a toy of the prism, and now the old magic is loosed; the suspended war resumes. Many hidden things will return, and the heretic will kidnap and toy with your people. Reassemble the weapons and fight him, Asaina al-Arqis. Tonight I let you live."

She understood none of this. "Who is the heretic?" she asked, but received no answer, and realizing too late that she should not look up, she stood transfixed by those burning eyes. The horror of that stare lingered with its afterimage glow as the lich grinned, faded, and was gone.