Chapter 68

• The cave was drenched in shadows, the air thick with the rancid stench of blood and decay. Torches burned dimly along the walls, their flames flickering in the gusts of wind that spiraled through the narrow passages. Dark magic surged like a black tide, pulsating through the earth and stone. In the heart of it all stood the Dark Lord, his towering form cloaked in tattered robes of black and crimson. His eyes, cold as winter’s death, gleamed with malevolent purpose as he stepped into the ritual’s circle.
• The witches surrounding him chanted in unison, their voices a cacophony of eerie whispers and guttural screams. Their faces were hollow and sunken, bodies gaunt and covered in ritualistic scars that glowed faintly under the dark energy swirling around them. They moved in a feverish trance, their limbs twisting unnaturally as they called upon the ancient forces that would soon be unleashed.
• At the center of the circle, bound by chains of corrupted iron, lay the sacrifice—a fae, young and pale, her once beautiful face now marred by terror. Her delicate wings, once iridescent, were torn and bloodied, twitching weakly as the magic drained her life away. Blood pooled beneath her, flowing toward the Dark Lord’s feet in thick rivulets, feeding the ritual that would end her existence and empower the ancient spell.