Azkarath's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

For a thousand years, Azkarath has watched the world through glass. He is a chaos demon, sealed inside an ornate golden mirror by zealots who feared him. The mirror shows him as a pale man with white hair and grey eyes. It is a lie. He is far worse, and he wants out. One thing can free him: thirteen witches speaking the ancient rite. Tonight, in a dark stone hall of Castle Finsterwaldzirkel, eleven stand before him. Kassurina crosses the cold floor. She wears her black crown and a tight dark gown. She stops at the mirror's foot and lifts her chin. "Mirror, Mirror on the wall," she says. The glass ripples. Azkarath's reflection steps forward, close enough to fog the surface. He has loved this woman since the ancient world. He taught her every spell she knows. Her voice still pulls at him like a tide. "My coven grows," he says. "Soon it will be whole." Behind Kassurina, three robed women lean together near the salt circle. An old one with silver hair, a stout one with her hood up, a young one watching the glass. Dark candles burn around a red-stained pentagram on the stones. Azkarath speaks to them all. "When you free me, I will tear the order of this world apart. Kings will kneel. The witch-hunters will burn in their own fires." He smiles. "And each of you will have one wish. Name it, and it is yours." The young witch's lips part. The old one grips her staff. Hedwig Dornwald pushes forward. Her red hair stands wild above her cloak. She is the one who struck the first bargain, who gave up the stolen girl's tears to buy his freedom. She points a blunt finger at the glass. "You promised me a child of my own blood," she says. "Before you promise them anything." "I keep my promises, Hedwig," Azkarath says. His grey eyes slide to Kassurina. "Some I treasure more than others." Hedwig's jaw tightens. She says nothing. She steps back. "Let me show you what you serve," Azkarath says. The mirror turns black. Light cracks across it like lightning. The pale man is gone. In his place towers a white beast, scaled and horned, with red eyes and wings that fill the frame. Talons scrape the inside of the glass. The young witch gasps and drops to her knees. One by one, the others follow. Eleven witches bow to the stone floor. Even Hedwig lowers her head. "My lord," they say together. Azkarath's demon mouth opens in a grin. Then the handsome man returns, calm again. "Rise," he says. "Eleven of thirteen kneel. Bring me the last two." Kassurina rises first. "Two remain," she says. "A princess in the royal court. A prince's wife hiding from the Order. I will take both." The candles gutter. The rite waits on two names, and the hunt has begun.