The Lord Marshal of the specters focused his mind into the far seeing trance as the flames crackled to either side.
His Sight honed in on his apprentice through specters prowling the Blightlands as Adyma approached Demnios Trostha.
He sent several of them airborne, circling the desolate city, watching havoc unfold as the dragon laid it to waste.
"Retrieve the tome at all costs, Ascarn." He sent to the eldritch armor he'd forged for the black knight.
He felt the pressure of an intrusive will, formidable with power, and saw the visage of Leoni Keln sitting his throne in Dered.
"Knight takes rook, old foe." The spectre sorcerer whispered.
Keln's visage looked his way momentarily before disappearing in a painful flash of light.
His connection to the specters vanished. Phanavaom tensed his fists, but did not move otherwise.
Gloom and silence pervaded the dark palace.