The heavy doors slammed shut behind the pair (with such force that Daeyal almost leapt from his skin), plunging the fortress into an unnerving blackness. Seconds later, without making a sound, wall-mounted candles on each side of the corridor sparked and were lit of their own accord. As the pair continued silently through the ancient hallway, the process was repeated; rows of tiny candles providing just enough light for Daeyal to see comfortably. The entire building was emblazoned with Zarosian propaganda; the infamous symbol was etched into every appropriate location and flags of purple and black were draped at every opportunity. It was a surreal experience for the Zarosian disciple, who had read about the fabled forgotten fortresses of Forinthry many a time, though their names had been lost to history. To be strolling the corridors of one of them with the Faceless One himself, second in command to the Empty Lord, was the ultimate fantasy for his people. He couldn't wait to see what else Lord Raazik would teach him, what other extraordinary things he would be exposed to. For a moment, he dreamt of retelling these stories to his brothers back home.

"Whilst your fantasies of being a messenger for the Empty Lord are noble, this service will not be necessary." Raazik's deep voice bellowed as he lead the disciple further into his abode, not even turning to face him. "In time, the Zarosian Empire will once again reign over Gielinor. And this time, none shall be able to forget." Daeyal whimpered some sort of confirmation of understanding, before falling silent. Lord Raazik's telepathy was going to take some getting used to. As they reached the summit of a spiral staircase, Daeyal was led into an ancient office - a huge, grand room that seemed to ascend further into the fortress, covering two or three stories. Raazik marvelled; indeed, it was caked in a thick layer of dust, but everything in the tall room was otherwise exactly how he had left it. Daeyal was startled once more as the fireplace against the far wall erupted into flame without warning. Raazik remained unfazed. He gestured towards one of the towering bookcases and, somewhere above them, the tomes and journals began to shift on their shelves. A single, battered book slid forth, and dropped from the great height; stopping mid-air and hovering before Raazik's masked face. Of its own accord, it opened obediently and its pages began to flip rapidly until the appropriate section was located.

Daeyal could not see what Raazik was reading, as the Mahjarrat lord was considerably taller than the human, and the tome's cover was illegible through wear. Already knowing better than to interrupt the Faceless One, he waited; noting how oddly silent the building was, considering the raging winds that tore through the wilderness and their proximity to the sea. He suspected this was the work of magic, rather than exceptional masonry. After a few moments, a loud tearing noise caught Daeyal's attention, as he turned and noticed a page floating beside the book. The tome itself slammed shut and shot upwards, vanishing into the lofty darkness and presumingly returning to its place. Raazik looked at Daeyal. 

"Take this scripture to the fourth floor." he directed, as Daeyal plucked the torn page from the air. "There, you shall find a chamber for the brewing of potions. Follow those instructions precisely and with haste." he commanded, with a stern and authoritative nature that told Daeyal he must not fail. "I expect the concoction to be ready within the hour." With that, he turned and left the room; not uttering another word. Daeyal swallowed harshly and made a mental note not to disappoint the general. As soon as the Mahjarrat was out of sight, the cloaked disciple sped out of the room and hurried up several flights of stairs. Once arriving on the fourth floor, he was mortified to find a maze of corridors, each with its own assortment of doors. Finding the potions chamber would surely take too long: how could Lord Raazik expect him to find the room, never mind brew the complex-looking potion he had been assigned? 

Regardless, he tried the nearest door to him and, to his surprise, he found it was locked. He moved to the next door and made a similar discovery. Before he had time to investigate, the hall fell into darkness as almost every candle on the floor extinguished in unison, save for a pair either side a door at the end of the hallway. Instinctively, Daeyal dashed towards the lone illuminated entrance. To his delight, the metal knob screeched as he turned it, and the wooden door creaked loudly as it swung open on its ancient hinges. Inside, Daeyal found a moderately sized, circular room with a large, round pool dug into the centre of the stone floor; presumably the vessel in which potions would be made. The walls consisted entirely of rows and rows of shelves, each lined with a vast assortment of strange ingredients. A single round window looked out over the rough sea. 

Pausing for only a moment to look out over the waves, Daeyal became curious. A violent storm was raging outside, as far as the eye could see. Flashes of wild lightning shone through the torrential rain and illuminated the black clouds. Indeed, the entire world seemed to be stirring. Moving away from the window, Daeyal studied the page once more and began to collect the various ingredients he required from the surrounding shelves.