The Goddess staggers under the glow of Kaela's green stone, the light of her former essence, pure and verdant green. She stalks the edge of the pool, seeking a way past the young witch, her mind driven by pain and confusion, her awesome powers forgotten. As Herger, then Starhl, and even the diminutive Mardo, congregate before her, her pain and humiliation drive anger. Her dead eyes glowing with unholy light, her rictus grin curls back in a snarl, and her powers rise with a palpable feel. So like an angry child, but with powers vast and incomprehensible. As the Heroes brace for her onslaught, Kaela dips the stone into the pool of darkness...
Instantly the goddess stiffens and screams in agony, as her former pure essence contacts her undead, reborn spirit. The pool of inky blackness begins to churn and seethe like an angry storm, discharges of green lightning lighting its inky interior. The goddess howls and thrashes in agony as her spirits clash. In her agony, Aislinn falls to the ground. Slowly at first, but increasing in rapidity, the Goddess' form slowly begins to dissolve, ebbing away in a cool wind driven down through the trees above. The Goddess looks incredulously at her form as it disintegrates, and her eyes look at the Heroes with a mixture of incomprehensible pity and sadness, almost as if a child were facing some unknown, hideous fate alone. With a final scream, the Goddess fades and all grows still...
With a blast born from unknown gulfs, a wind rips through the forest, twisting the trees as they thrash in agony. Kaela withdraws the stone from the pool to find it cool and dead, the green light and its power gone. To her horror, the pool's edges spread as the blackness seeps over the glade, seeking to stretch into the forest. Nearby, the crumpled form of Aislinn twists slightly as she calls to the Heroes, Thank you my friends. Leave me here, let me die...I feel the call of the Forest...my dreams are coming true. I am so alone...Kaela, Valurel, will you stay with me? Don't become what I am now...it is time to pass into the spiritworld, a world I have touched...our fight will continue...
Nearby, the towering figure of the Widowmaker stalks out of the darkness and kneels at the side of the girl. He mutters something in guttural Orcish, No honor in hunting young children. My dread god will not claim you. Aislinn's feeble voice answers. Thank you. The Widowmaker stands, clutching his ribs, his broken form still dangerous. We must flee now! Into the forest! The mirror will expand, and then contract...when it does, everything will be destroyed! Now! Without waiting, the Orc turns and runs into the forest as the inky pool expands and flows across the glade.
