Caledan followed Morhion up the tower's steps into the mage's study. He sat and accepted a glass of wine, from which he drank deeply. All the while Morhion regarded him with an expression of confusion mixed with amazement.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've come here," Caledan said finally.

"I know why you've come," Morhion replied gravely. "You've come for satisfaction, to gain vengeance against me. I cannot say that I blame you. I have betrayed you twice, Caldorien."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's not vengeance I want," Caledan said flatly. He set down his glass and stood before the mage.

"Then what is it you wish?" Morhion asked, his blue eyes troubled.

“To tell you that I understand," Caledan said simply. He walked toward a narrow window, gazing out at the city for a moment He heard the sound of music and laughter drifting through the night. He turned to regard the mage. "You saved me twice with your 'betrayals.' Once in Darkhold, and once in the Shadowking's crypt. For that I thank you."

Morhion gaped. For the first time Caledan could remember, his face did not seem cold and imperious, but rather tired and lonely. "I have never… I have never allowed myself to hope that you would ever understand."

Caledan reached out and laid a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Believe it."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a faint smile crept across Morhion's face.

Caledan bid the mage farewell and let himself out of the tower, stepping into the warm summer night. "Come on, Mista," he said as he mounted the ghostly gray mare and nudged her into a trot. "Let's go home."

Morhion sat at his desk, sipping a glass of pale wine. The wooden surface before him was littered with scrolls and parchments filled with scribbled notes. He had been deep in study earlier, but now the parchments lay untouched. They could wait.

“To you, Caledan Caldorien," Morhion whispered to the silence of his study, lifting his glass. 'To you, my friend." He drained the wine and smiled again.

Suddenly, despite the balmy air coming through the window, Morhion shivered. His smile faded as he set the glass down. A shadow appeared before him, and as he watched it gradually began to take shape, its outlines growing clearer.

Fine crystals of frost appeared on the empty wine glass, and Morhion's breath began to fog in the chilly air. He watched the apparition before him with a familiar feeling of dread.

"It is time," the dark spirit said in a voice that made Morhion's blood run cold. "Do not forget the bargain we made beneath the fortress of Darkhold." The apparition's eyes glowed a deep, bloody red. "The pact is binding."