Mammon drank the antidote for the poison that Xar'gath emitted.
Xar'gath was still not moving, but a low, ragged breath proved he was still alive.
Mammon sighed, an almost human sound.
He hadn't wanted to give this bastard such a painless death, but his powers worked only in this way.
He could only play the game of poison with Xar'gath, a patient predator waiting for his prey to finally succumb.
Days passed in the demonic realm, each one a slow, agonizing crawl towards oblivion for Xar'gath.
The vitality in his body was siphoned away, minute by minute, until all that remained was a husk.
And then, a truly mysterious force took hold.
Xar'gath's entire body was pulled towards Mammon, not as a brutal act of force, but as if by an inevitable gravity.
His form dissolved, not into dust, but into a swirling vortex of energy and memories, which then flowed into Mammon.
