Darkness, as if possessed, crept up to its master, its wielder, the undead. Rejecting all else, the darkness acted with subservience, offering control to the undead who Yog-Sothoth, the God of Necromancy, had granted the right.
It was as if the world itself turned gray, as the scenery bled color, leaving it bare. The expressions of fear resided atop faces, providing the atmosphere with a tragedic afterglow. The undead raised his hand, the God of Necromancy visible in his eyes, which contained no trace of life.
"Do you wish for destruction, lowly creature?" An unknown force containing millions of years of wisdom and power inquired the dead man who knelt before it. The undead was petrified as its creator stood before it, despite only a trace of energy having approached him.