"So it shall be, then." Krasus eyed the hillside, seeking a path down. If he hoped to remain hidden from those watching for magical beings such as himself, it behooved him to use only enough of his power to shield his presence. Besides, his current physical form was not adverse to hard effort.

Gloved hands took hold of the rocky hillside as he cautiously lowered himself down into the Wetlands. The difference in the climate became noticeable almost immediately; the land below was far more humid. Fortunately, though he resembled an elf—albeit a very pale one—Krasus had a red dragon's adaptability to heat. The Wetlands bothered him not in the least; the caverns of his flight were far more comfortably hot and, depending on the location, much more moist.

The cries of Wetlands life were oddly muted as Krasus stepped onto the soft, wet soil. In general, a place such as this was teeming with animals and insects eager to vocalize their presence. However, though he heard some of both groups, there should have been much more activity.

It was as if much of the life here was wary of imminent threat... something that Krasus also felt.

But nothing reared its ugly head nor attacked him with vile magic. Krasus journeyed deeper into the swampy region, heading on a path directly toward Grim Batol.

The lush growth quickly enveloped him, but as Krasus shoved vines from his face, he noted something about that plant life. It had an ill feeling to it. Outwardly, it appeared normal, but inside, there was a sense that something had become twisted, that the Wetlands were changing for the worst.

The taint from the cursed mount spreads.... This cannot go on. He grimly shoved the next several branches and vines, furious with himself most of all for ignoring the benighted land after freeing his beloved queen and ridding the mountains of the orcs and the accursed Demon Soul. It should have been at that time that he personally went into the depths of Grim Batol and eradicated any darkness remaining within. Even while his own flight, which had included some of his offspring, had been guarding the region. Krasus had done nothing. There had always been some other crisis, some other danger, turning him from this task.

But hindsight was ever perfect, whereas Krasus was not. That was no excuse, of course, but it did ease his guilt a little.

Each step of his boots left a squishing sound that echoed much too loudly, but Krasus did nothing to still the sound. That would have required more magic. He still hoped to sneak upon whatever lurked In Grim Batol, though that notion was likely more and more nothing but a dream.

Small insects hovered near him, but then flew off. Most of those who dined on blood could sense that his was not to their taste.

But something else evidently believed that Krasus would make a fine meal. He noted its presence nearby, yet could not sense exactly where without possibly making himself known to anything lurking in the distant mountain. Krasus moved with caution: powerful as he was in this form, he was not invulnerable.

Yet, as he trudged along, nothing attacked. The violet-clad figure moved into the deepest part of the Wetlands and finally decided that it was time to risk sending his mind out toward Grim Batol.

Finding an area relatively far from the shrouded waters of the swamp. Krasus planted himself against a mossy tree and concentrated. Immediately, his view expanded in all directions. A human mind could not have coped with such a complete survey, buta dragon's mind was far more complex, far more advanced.

But there was only one direction that concerned him. Drawing his thoughts together, the dragon mage focused on the mountain. Now, he saw all that lay ahead as if he already trod those grounds. He had made better time than he had umagined, but still had far to go... That, however, did not concern him. Instead, he pushed his mind on to the barren lands immediately surrounding Grim Batol. There, his sense of unease magnified a thousandfold. The wrongness around and within the mountain screamed at Krasus to learn its secrets.

Eyes narrowed, he shoved his mind into Grim Batol itself.

Darkness at first filled his gaze, but then fragments of images appeared as Krasus entered the caverns. However, his first full glimpse of Grim Batol's interior was a disappointing one, for all he saw was shadowed stalactites and stalagmites. There were a few bones in the chamber, orс bones, but they were clearly from the battle that had ousted the green warriors from Grim Batol.

Yet, the wrongness was too powerful to ignore. Krasus concentrated....

His brow rose. Something was coming. He quickly withdrew— only to discover that his mind could not retreat from Grim Batol.

Krasus tried, but it was as if he actually stood before the tons of stone and dirt, trying to pound his way through with only his fists. All that he could see was the chamber with the skeletons and the blackness that marked the mountainside through which he wished to pass again.

And worse, because of that, he could not even see what was happening around his own body.

Krasus tried again to retreat, but with no better result. Each moment, he became certain that whoever had set the trap would now strike... yet nothing else happened.

But although this snare appeared now to be one set in place and possibly forgotten, Krasus still needed to free himself as quickly as possible. He concentrated on his body as he had last seen it, imagining his mind again within.

Yet, still nothing happened. The dragon mage thought for a moment, then turned his attention to locating the spell matrix that held him. It did not take long to sense, but its complexity dismayed him. It was clearly the work of a skilled practitioner of the arts, possibly, depending on its age... possibly even Deathwing himself.

Nevertheless, Krasus knew that he had to find the focus. Only there could he possibly unravel the spell, if there was still hope of that.

His consciousness sank deeper into the binding spell, studying its arrangement. If indeed this was Deathwing's work, that might, ironically enough, be to Krasus's benefit. If there was any being alive who understood the black leviathan's twisted mind, it was Alexstrasza s oldest-lived consort. Krasus had made the former Aspect an extensive part of his long, vigilant watch, Deathwing having played a role in many plots over the millennia.

One by one, the dragon mage followed the threads of the spell. He began to see a pattern, but one more intricate than even he had suspected.

One line showed more promise than the rest. Krasus started to trace it back to its origin....

The thing he had sensed earlier drew closer. It was most definitely coming Krasus's direction. A sudden sense of intense hunger washed over him, a hunger not for flesh, but rather something more significant to him.

What moved toward him hungered for his magic...

Krasus tried to hurry his task. He was a dragon, a creature of magic. To have his magic ripped away would be worse for him than if someone had thrust a sword through his throat. He had seen others of his kind suffer such fates and knew that it was the one death that truly frightened him.

The creature in the caverns closed on his mental location. That Krasus's body was not there did not give the dragon mage any hope. Some devourers of magic needed only the spell link to seize their prey.

The trap continued to evade Krasus's effort. The thread he followed proved a dead end. The second he followed did the same.

The mysterious devourer was almost upon him. Krasus could detect its horrible nearness and knew that when he was finally able to see it through his own spell, it would be too late for him. Yet, nothing he did availed him—

I am a fool! There was one hope, albeit a risky one. It might enable him to avoid the slow, agonizing death dealt by the magic eater...but could also end up causing Krasus to slay himself in the process.