His master's work.
Ashraaah's work
The word, passes into your mind like a worm crawling through silt and you know that were you merely a mortal wizard so too would it seek to pass out of mind without a trace in memory. But you did not overhear it on the night air, not did you read it in some pilfered scroll or upon a screen left carelessly open... open for the careless. You took it and what you take you keep. Meaning you draw from it as one might drill an oil well down to hell.
Not-Man, Once-Man, Husk. All that was of him in the Image of God is Not and in the place of God, something else, a hunger, a need, a Howling.
All at once the world snaps back into focus, all the sights and sounds of nocturnal gathering spinning around and round in a haze of of blind gaiety, knowing not for the servant, the puppet of darkness that walks among them, for you do not think the Ashraaah is capable of keeping servants that its influence does not devour.