Maliketh was waiting in his crumbling arena; far removed from time and space. He was clad in his ebony armor, covered beneath the white sheet he used when disguised as Gurranq. He could hear a stranger’s approach, and he embedded his claws in old stone as he waited the inevitable. However, the figure that approached left the wolf stunned for a moment.

"Tarnished, why wouldst thou... Why..." The pain of betrayal was loud and clear in Maliketh's gruff voice, as the armed figure only grew closer. The heartache was quickly buried, pushed down deep beneath the wolf's sense of duty, and need to be strong. He couldn't grow attached.

"Tis no matter. I hereby vow, that Destined Death shall not be stolen again!" He reached up and tore the sheet from his pelt, exposing that ebony armor to glinting sunlight, as he also embedded his blade into the shard on his paw; once again releasing Destined Death upon the corrupted world. A deep snarl boomed from inside his chest, thundering through the arena, while accompanied by the crackle of lighting, and roaring winds.