Byron Manfred opens his eyes to see the wight king standing guard over him. The necromancer can remember feeling the wight king's massive axe cutting into him, though his wounds have now disappeared, undone over time by the mysterious magic of the Silver Tower. Byron also vaguely remembers the now absent bestial fury that had overcome him, and obviously the wight king as well, which made them fight each other for possession of the fragment of Ghur. Suddenly Byron realizes that between them, they now possess all eight fragments of the Gaunt Summoner's amulet!
As the final syllables were uttered, the light flared bright, and from it stepped the Gaunt Summoner. No
illusion was this, no simulacra or trick. The Summoner had himself been summoned, and he stood before the
champions in all his infernal might. Yet the creature was not angry. Instead a shark-like grin split his hideous
features, and a malevolent chuckle shook his narrow shoulders. Very good, spoke the Summoner, very good. The
champions had brought him forth to battle. But were they ready? And if they were, which one of them would
claim his boon? Vital questions, sneered the Gaunt Summoner, but ones that would only see an answer if the
champions could keep up! With this, the daemon swept his staff in a great arc and with it tore reality aside like a
curtain. A glowing rent was left behind, and through this the Gaunt Summoner leapt. The champions exchanged
swift and telling looks, then plunged into the rift in pursuit of their tormentor.