Shadowfey Sheik

Among the khayal, death is sacred, a tradition to be honored, not cheated or twisted. But Zha'kul never cared for tradition. He craved power. And death, properly harnessed, was power beyond reckoning.

Zha'kul dwelled in the bogs of Fenmoor Basin, alone but for the shadows he conjured from the Shadow Plane. They drifted around him in unchanging patterns, replaying echoes of forgotten events.

In his mind, they adore him. He is their sheik. When he commands them, they obey. They clutch his arms and carry him like a god upon an invisible throne. He demands gifts, and they bring him trinkets. At his word, they kill without compunction. But they have no love for him. What they feel is anyone’s guess, for few can comprehend the instincts and motivations of the shadowfey.

It was Craniax the Quick who brought word of the Conclave Arcana and the search for the secret of Praetoria. Zha'kul needed no convincing. Here was power greater than anything he had ever dreamed. Dominion over death and life alike. A kingdom built not on thrones or graves, but on absolute command.

He joins Craniax like a vulture circling the coming slaughter. His shadowfey accompany him without question or mercy, serving a master they neither love nor hate. In truth, they think nothing of him. It makes no difference, though. Obedience is enough.

The living are weak. The dead are patient. Zha'kul is neither.