When at first the Black Swordsman came across the gateway leading to Angela's realm, it didn't know exactly what to make of it.  It tasted the magic that permeated the gateway and wished to find the source, to taste its power and find the source to have it become one with it. Such power leaving a permanent gateway such as this was certain to be truly mighty and though the creature would likely be incapable of draining it fully, a small taste would likely progress it leaps and bounds.

It had been experiencing evolution at a monstrous pace, becoming more sentient, more intelligent in accordance with the power it was continuously draining from the living and the corrupted. It resulted in incredible amounts of pain, to be forced to undergo fundamental changes that would take others tens of thousands of years to accomplish. However, several of the organs that existed within the body the creature used as a mask were returning to life with the addition of magical and living essence, creating something beyond a mortal and the Harbinger of the End.

It stepped through the gate, finding a welcome setting within darkness and simple steps of jade that rose into the air.  In the center, there stood a statue, of whom the creature assumed was the power responsible for the magic it had felt thus far and it wished to taste.  As memories of the Black Swordsman presented themselves, nothing save the wanton destruction of foes that Icarus had conducted while he controlled the beast permeated its vision.  Such destruction was nigh majestic when witnessed in such grand scale, as though living memories brought back the best times it could experience.  For others, it would bring visions both good and bad, yet the beast held no such memories, only war and death.  The only heartbreak it felt was that Icarus had not drained any of them, simply doing what he must to end the battle mercifully.  It was a waste.

When at last it finished its ascent, the creature bore witness to a chamber extensive in length and littered with glowing crystals.  Eyeing a location far away, it teleported, cutting the travel toward the end sharply.  Perhaps it was cheating, but the creature did not care and had no time for simple games such as this. The coming of Obelisk would not wait forever and it needed power to fuel the link to bring its master into being.

It was only a short walk from the teleported destination until the end of the cavern and it at last came upon what was a thin layer of water in a vast expanse that seemed ton continue endlessly.  The creature grumbled, annoyed at the various hoops it was seemed to be forced to jump through in order to reach its destination.  It was not a figure of living flesh, mostly, and required neither sleep, nor food, nor water to continue its existence.  All that these events seemed to consume was time, something the beast disliked to waste without good cause.  Hopefully there was some sort of good end to this situation made its journey of curiosity worthwhile.

The Black Swordsman continued to press onward, walking along in a straight path, unwavering and receiving to impetus that may draw its attention away.  It began to drink the essence, draining the magic that seemed to permeate the location, taking it in small gulps that assimilated into its being.  Perhaps any of the places it had been would be sufficient to drain for all the essence it could consume for the time being until its next evolution was complete, but it still wanted to find the source.  Eventually, it merely stood in place, absorbing more magical essence until it felt itself overflowing, requiring time to digest and assimilate the added magic fully.  

The magic in this area was like poison to anyone who tried to consume it without permission. It wasn’t just anyone who got to have her magic. If anything the magic of the Sundering Gardens would make the Swordsman even more tired. How the mighty fell indeed. It wasn’t that she didn’t sense him or not know he was there. She knew very much he was there.

Matter of fact, she cleared the way for the being to get there. None of her servants would get in the way. He would find her one way or another and she did not want a being like this to find anyone she cared about. Still the more energy he took from the area, the more tired he would be. Soon he would meet her and she would judge this soul for herself.

She scooted her children away from the area before meeting him half way. It was in the fields of wheat that she stood there, pregnancy and all, staring at him. “You come into my realm and you drink my magic. It will just slowly kill you Icarus.  Though I doubt I can even call you that anymore, you are nothing more than a shell. Oh how Aaryona would cry at this sight.”  Maybe there was a piece of him that would recognize the name that spouted from her lips. Her hands tightly gripping her pregnant belly.

Her dress was of bright colors much like a peacock and her red hair was braided with gems throughout it of many colors. “Why are you here? Speak quickly if you  can even try?” She knew not what Icarus was doing but it was fairly obvious by his aura that he was not himself. She sensed his desire and that was not like the good man that her family had come to know. This was a shell of himself, something dark.

The air around the area got tight, the sky darkened, there was a threat hanging there. She would end him if there was anything he threatened to do in her realm. It was a wordless promise she intended to keep.

After the first two or three gulps of power that it began to assimilate into its form, the beast began to feel some sort of nasty side effect that for a mortal would have made it become more exhausted.  Instead, the creature could feel the organs that had begun to return with the assimilation of magic into its form shutting down.  Even as the voice of a woman came scolding that it could not recognize, the creature internalized the magic, shifting it, and released it from its being.  The result caused it to lose some of the magic it had absorbed, but no matter, it could always replace it later.

It seemed that which had been dangerous for it had been the life-giving properties of the deity's magic, surprisingly enough as that was.  For an undead, it was akin to a mortal drinking lye.  If it hadn't been fortunate enough to simply be essence within a body and able to purge it, it would likely have succumbed to the later conditions that would have incapacitated it through the poison inherent in the magic.  The spilling of its own essence in removing the corrupting life had been unfortunate, leaving it slightly weakened.  There would be no means of opposing the originator of said magic and the creature underwent another forced evolution.

The exposure to the hazardous magic caused it to develop a reactionary reflex to it.  It did not know what it meant or the application of this change, but something different had occurred to it, causing it pain similar to the many times it had been forced to evolve in the past.  Thoughts became clearer, speech became more viable, and more of the feral nature inherent to the creature was lost, covered by sentience as though someone had hoisted a curtain slightly from its vision.

The woman's scolding had no effect on the creature.  It stood, puzzled at the living being and wondered just how deep the recesses of their power went.  Instinct took over and it measured her, realizing it could not find sustenance in her as it could not overpower her as it usually did with mortals and those that interrupted it. The gaseous essence that it filtered from the costume of human flesh it wore emerged from behind it, in a matter that the living would call flatulence, floating away as a green mist dissipating from behind it.

"There is no Icarus.  Soul gone, we come to herald the master. Curious we were in your magic.  Gate open, much magic we sensed," it answered in the best way it could.  Indeed, the actual reason for its intrusion was simple.  There was a large quantity of magic present in all that had been beyond the gate and it sought out the originating source from the start.  That had been the driving force behind the seemingly animalistic creature in a man's flesh.  Alas, its search had revealed nothing worth eating, just the equivalent of poisoned fruit.

"Magic tasted good, left feeling bad.  We had to purge it before it joined us," it explained, cocking its head, noticing the bulge to the woman's belly. The creature had indeed been fortunate in its amorphous structure.  However, if another were to attempt such a thing, the visualization for others would be akin to severing a limb as gangrene set in.  

The words that had been said regarding this Aaryona spurred its thoughts, drawing fragmented memories from the body that it inhabited.  Fragments of a woman's face, nature, the smell of her skin on the breeze came to mind.  None of them had purpose for the creature and it simply stood there, transfixed into staring blankly at the deity, no emotion within its frame.