The wind howled as it walked through the empty streets of the dead Mythograd. The center of necromancy of the Griffin Empire was burned, but then restored, destroyed, but even if you take it apart brick by brick, it is impossible to drive out the undead from it. Along the city's paved road and beyond the walls, a modest-looking mausoleum. The once majestic tomb of Sandro the Great was vast and spacious, with high towers and intricate symbols on the walls.

The knights were unable to destroy the tomb completely, just as they were unable to kill him. Sandro's spirit still hovers around the streets of the twice-dead Mythograd, bringing death to all those who displease him, at least that's how necromancers scare their enemies and each other. In reality, of course, everything is not so dangerous. But Sandro will not die. Not until the fragment of the phylactery hidden in the most secure place in all of Ashan is intact.

The mortal bones of the once lich lie beneath a stone slab, charred and burned when the knights of the order first burned Mythograd. A translucent silhouette leans over the coffin. Sandro stares at his own grave with empty eye sockets, indifferent as always. He senses someone entering the tomb.

"Who dared to disturb the peace of Sandro the Great?!" — Sandro hisses ominously, his long robe fluttering, sometimes revealing his ghostly skeleton.