Zarathos made preparations to depart for the Shadow Realm, the weight of his impending journey hanging heavily upon him. He donned his dark cloak, its fabric swirling around him like a shroud of darkness, and fastened his gaze upon the horizon. The air crackled with anticipation as he mounted his noble steed, the beast snorting and pawing at the ground in eager anticipation.
With a flick of his wrist, Zarathos summoned forth his formidable powers, the very air shimmering with the raw energy that coursed through his veins. He raised his hand, and a swirling vortex of darkness appeared before him, a gateway to the unknown depths of the Shadow Realm.
As he prepared to step through the portal, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. But Zarathos brushed aside the feeling, his resolve unshakeable as he took his first step into the unknown.