The cold whispering mist and the spinning vortex left in Mercer's wake combine with an odd effect.

The fog rises, twisting and coalescing into a magical spiral of its own, and within its walls the tall loathsome column that is the Dark begins to spin in place.

It is thickening now, becoming more solid -- it has stopped advancing toward the bar, but something is building inside the Dark now, some power of hatred and wild, destructive fury --

--and then it explodes, throwing itself outward in all directions with shattering force.