He watched as they ripped her ephemeral form apart in front him. Now every night he wakes to her ghostly screams throughout his memory. They knew this too and counted on it to break him.

It hadn't been hard. Truce never had the knack for enduring pain, physical or otherwise. And the Seers of the Throne knew just which buttons to push. His touchy-feely approach fell to ribbons in the face of their brutality. That's why they kept him alive, knowing the fight could be shaken out of him.

He told himself he chose to go along with it, to change the system from within if he could just endure their abhorant practices. The Exarchs will reward the obedient and punish the those that threaten their rule, he was told. They knew this too and so they toyed with him, creating false resistance groups within their hierarchy. Traps to lure him in. Naive as he was he fell for them twice over.

It wouldn't be long before they ran out of uses for the disloyal Necromancer. Though intelligent, he lacked the ambition to abandon conventional Wisdom for greater power. Before too long they would tear him apart, much like Chelsea, salvaging Mind, Body, and Soul for their cruel service to invisible masters.

He could not even escape into Death.