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Welcome home... The black voice, the the voice of death and manipulation and corruption. No warmth in the voice, only commandments, only judgement. He remembered the sly, whispering voice well. The god's presence still lingered in the shadowed corners of his mind, an endless echo in the void, a reminder of the peril and the chaos the being harbored. The dark ranger had only one duty, one destiny, and that was the Path and the Path alone. He had no duty to this god, only to this physical world and protecting the inhabitants within it from those forces that sought to see them fall. It would remain to be seen if this new god became such a force. Anyone gathered here who thought that they might somehow worm their way into the ethereal being’s good graces was foolishly, and perhaps tragically, mistaken. Gods were no friends of mortals. They watched with hungry, jealous eyes, corrupting and manipulating however and whenever they saw fit. Raistlyn did not enjoy being a pawn in the game of the gods, and yet, here he was, as helpless as the rest of the lemmings milling mindlessly about, roiling with confusion and terror and anger. The ranger listened silently, wreathed in shadow and darkness, not wishing to venture any closer to the great, abhorrent beast and his black voice. The commandments the deity decreed for his newly acquired mortals are more reasonable than Raistlyn had expected. Teach, learn, play nice with each other. Judging by the cries of outrage, the worried murmurs, and venomous whispering, they all had a long way to go. At least there was only one god now.   No more great battles between the forces of good and evil, no more black and white. Just what was, and what would be. Perhaps the godkillers would learn something from when they meddled in affairs far greater and beyond themselves, and in the process, wrought destruction on both their world and the Rift. There was no good, and no evil. Here in the shadows of the Rift, the definition was blurred, the shades of color indistinguishable. If the godkillers thought that they would choose the higher road by opposing what they saw as the greater evil, Raistlyn suspected they all, Riftians and Helovians alike, would soon find themselves in a downward, desperate spiral once again.