Garalt backed away from the tortured spirits within the pillars of the dark church and into the center of the room.  He figured he would be better off staying relatively in the center.  
    His attention now elsewhere, Garalt squinted down to the end of the room where the dark figures and the bright light were.  The light by now had died down enough for Garalt to see the figures better.
    But what he saw next was something he had never wanted to see, not in the same place.  In the middle, in front of him, was a dark, familiar figure.  Though he had his back to him, and was dressed in a black cloak, Garalt could still recognize the slightly hunched over silhouette of his enemy Ethelred.  But what was far worse was that he was not alone.  In the back, facing Garalt and slightly to the left was the golden visage of Trouble, the death knight that every knight in Ikros feared.  There was no more powerful a fighter that Ethelred controlled than Trouble, Garalt had heard tales of the knight taking down over thirty good, trained men in one passing blow.  
    But what was even more horrifying was who else was standing there.  Hidden slightly by the shadows, the horned silhouette of Zakar could be seen.  The now leader of the expedition into Ikros now controlled even Ethelred, and the skill and power that Garalt could sense from him made him shiver.  Garalt's mind raced around, going back to his short stay in the F'Rekkah Atoll, and learning about the Council.  Garalt was in turmoil.  Half of him wanted to hate Ethelred and Zakar for attacking Ikros, and the other half wanted to make peace with them.  After all, all of what had happened in Ikros was nothing more than a serious misunderstanding.  Had only the Council sent a different messenger than a necromancer.  
    Garalt's attention was brought back into the room by a loud moan of pain.  Garalt hadn't noticed it before, but the three figures before him had not been paying any attention to Garalt, but rather to a figure lying on the alter at the head of the dark church.  He could only see the face of the man, as the necromancer's cloak hid the rest of the man from view.  Ethelred was waving his hands over the figure, and as he did so the young man moaned and grit his teeth.  Garalt winced at the sound of the pain the man was going through.  Garalt began to approach, and as he tried to say something, again he found he could say nothing.  As he got closer and closer, the pain the man was being put through seemed to become greater and greater, as his moans began to turn into cries and screams.  The two figures watching Ethelred said and did nothing, they merely watched on as the necromancer did whatever it was he was doing to the man.
    Garalt continued to move closer and closer to the end of the cathedral, finding himself only able to walk very slowly, as if in slow motion.  As he moved within a few feet of the altar, the face of the man on the altar turned and stared at Garalt.  Garalt froze in place and stared at the man, his face covered in tears of pain.  Ethelred and the other two men looked up and noticed Garalt, but did nothing.  The man tried to speak to Garalt, but instead was met with more pain by the actions of the necromancer.  
    "Stop this!" Garalt shouted, finding himself finally free to speak.  
    Ethelred looked once more over his shoulder at Garalt, and then moved away from the altar, revealing the man fully to Garalt.  Garalt gasped in horror as he saw that all the flesh was gone from the man, only a face on a skeletal body.  Garalt felt his stomach churn at the sight, that is, until he saw the man reach out to Garalt.  

    "Help me..." the man begged Garalt.  Garalt could hardly look at the sight, his stomach was doing loops inside his body.
    "Father!!  Help me!" the man begged again, shouting.
    Garalt gasped and began to walk backwards.
    "Father, why won't you help me?  Please!  Father!!" the man shouted.
    Garalt turned and began to run with all his being to the other side of the dark church.