Blackwater Islands Soul clap through your last rites.

The spectre moved around his withered body to pick at the net, to free him, to help; but he lay there in shambles, throat hoarse, helpless. Unwilling to help himself.

Just let me die, his eyes begged.

And still the shadow plucked at the web that held him. Before long, so-called Harka would lose consciousness - lost to the black.

please!