“You!” she shouted at a group of witches that appeared to be wandering around aimlessly, unsure what to do, terrified of what they were seeing. “With me. Round up anyone else you can find. You are my personal guard.”
The witches responded to her voice, forming up behind her. Christine barked orders as she went, and the defenders of Winterspell slowly stiffened as she injected some spine into them.
Leaping onto the wall, she prepared to do battle with the troll. The creatures were notoriously resistant to magic, and this one was bigger than any she’d ever seen, straight out of legend. Around it, a horde of orcs, ogres and goblins waited at the base of the walls. They were trying to erect ladders and breach the walls.
“Sweep them clear,” Christine cried to her guard. “I’ll deal with the big guy.”
Relieved witch-constructs leapt to do her bidding, grateful to have a task they were confident they could handle.
Now, if only I could feel the same.
Christine raised her staff and prepared to cast her strongest fire spell. It was the only magic that affected trolls.
Before she could cast the spell, however, the entire simulation froze. Witches, creatures from the Abyss. It all just went still.
“Um,” Christine said out loud, knowing she was being watched. “What did I do wrong?”
A head shrouded in the depths of a hood appeared in front of her with an abruptness that sent her skidding back a step.
“All witches not on patrol must report to the main auditorium immediately. All classes, testing and other projects are hereby suspended.”
Christine watched the image of Circe, the head of Winterspell as it repeated the message a second time.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around, not sure if this was part of the Test or not.
Someone spoke a word, and suddenly she was standing in the middle of an empty room. Several Masters stood around her, including one where the troll had been.
“I’m not sure,” the nearest, Master Pinton, said quietly.
“I repeat,” Circe’s head said. “All witches must report to the main auditorium.”
There was a pause.
“Lord Berith has returned.”
Christine leaned heavily on her staff as the other Masters gasped in a mixture of surprise and horror.
Everyone knew the name. Lord Berith, demon lord from the Abyss. One of the worst enemies the witches had ever faced in their history.
And he was back.
Chapter Two
Altair
“THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING.”
Altair sat back in his seat as Circe appeared on stage, her voice effortlessly amplified to carry to all corners of the auditorium. Even sitting in the very back with all the other dragons, he had no issues making out every word the head witch was saying.
“And thank you to our new friends for also coming.” Circe extended a hand up to the back of the sloped auditorium.
Heads turned, many of the witches realizing for the first time that the dragons were in attendance as well. Though they hadn’t technically been invited, Altair knew that Circe wasn’t likely to turn down their presence either.
Whoever this Lord Berith was, they were powerful enough to warrant immediate and full attention from the assembled might of all of Winterspell. That told Altair all he needed to know about the situation.
Most of the looks directed up at the dragons were ones of surprise or curiosity, but every so often, he noticed a face that was closed off or full of dark glares. He ignored those, as did his fellows. The dragons were becoming a fixture at Winterspell now, and their numbers had swelled to over fifty in the last two weeks.
The head of the anti-dragon contingent was gone now, and he hoped that would mean things would settle down soon. Altair needed to find his purpose, and he couldn’t do that if he was constantly fending off angry attempts by the witches to rid Winterspell of the dragons.
“As I mentioned,” Circe said, drawing everyone’s attention—including the dragon’s—back to her. “Lord Berith has returned to earth. For those of you not aware, Lord Berith is one of the ten Demon Lords of the Abyss.”
Altair nodded slowly. He had heard of the Abyss. All his kind were aware of it now, a sort of alternate world or plane of existence that existed on Earth. It was home to all sorts of foul creatures, including this Lord Berith, it seemed.
And if there are only ten of his kind there...
“It has been nearly three hundred years since he last walked out of the Abyss,” Circe said softly. “The last time he was on Earth, he killed hundreds of thousands. If you aren’t up to date on your history, then I urge you to read up on the horrors that accompanied him. He was finally stopped in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1755.” Circe looked over the crowd.
“Humans believe it to be an earthquake that struck the city, killing nearly 70,000 innocent civilians. Flooding as far away as Morocco killed many more. We never found out the exact total, but estimates say it was close to a quarter of a million souls that perished from our fight with Lord Berith.”
Altair licked his lips. Whoever the demon lord was, he sounded like a worthy foe.
“As you are aware,” Circe said, speaking solemnly. “It was only with the supreme sacrifice of Master Ada Erlinger that he was finally stopped.”
Altair’s spine stiffened, his attention grabbed by this last bit of information from Circe. Someone had sacrificed their life to save that of others? Was that the way it must be done then, to defeat this demon? Could it be?
“For now, our counterparts out of Hexe Institute are tracking Lord Berith, while he is still in Europe. They will attempt to dispatch him back to the Abyss, however due to his strength, it was deemed prudent to inform everyone at Winterspell. As a result of his return, however, I will be forming a response team.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Altair rose to his feet. Heads nearby turned at the sound.
“I
