Anaris

The wraithsword shattered beneath the cutting edge of Anaris, shards of spirit-infused crystal slashing into the dome of Althenian’s head. The blow of the Warshard continued, the tip carving a deep furrow into the wraithlord’s shoulder, almost severing his remaining arm. The avatar’s fist crashed into his chest again. Burning blood frothed into the injury, lava searing through internal systems and spirit-crystals in a welter of steam and melting wraithbone.

Pain the likes the spirit had never known scorched through him even as his body disintegrated into falling flecks of charred wraithbone and showering molten droplets.

Althenian screamed, a sound he had not uttered in life, not even at his death.

Ghost Warrior