The Dark Lord sat motionless upon his throne of obsidian, carved deep into the heart of the cave where light dared not enter. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, scanning the shadows that danced across the jagged walls. He was not surprised the witch had failed to return. She had always been unreliable, and two nights ago, at the stroke of midnight, two of his most loyal minions had slipped through the weakening barrier. He had sent them on a mission—one that had yet to bear fruit.

But the ...