Rosalis and Uliraf returned ten days later and proceeded to plan their revenge. Uliraf stood hunched over a map whilst Rosalis paced up and down slowly, her arms crossed. “Any ideas on how to take back Frinnor?” Rosalis asked, still pacing. Uliraf looked up at her, standing up straight.

  “I suggest that we attack in the early morning, tomorrow if possible. The knights will be unprepared for the attack.”

  “How so?”

  “They may think that you will have gone into exile. They will not think that you will have joined your enemy. Besides, they have not heard from you for a month and a half.”

  “That be true. How will we get past the walls and gates?”

  “I have prepared three siege towers. They are being transported to Frinnor as we speak.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “They should be there by this evening. I have ordered them to be hidden away from sight to avoid them from being destroyed by the night watch. In the morning, they will be mobilised and Frinnor will be ours to take.”

  “How will we get through the front gates? I trust that you have a battering ram.”

  “Of course.”

  Rosalis stopped pacing and looked at her husband. “All we have to do now, is wait.”

  Uliraf gestured with his head. “Come, there is someone that I would like you to meet.”

  Uliraf led Rosalis to the witches. Once they made eye contact with the herald-turned-queen, they screamed and screeched, cursing her name. One of them looked at her suspiciously.

  “What of Wolfgrimm?” She asked in her rough voice.

  “I killed him.” Rosalis replied. The witches screeched once more, mourning the loss. “I want to take over Frinnor.”

  The witches stopped their screeching and one of them looked at her. She slowly walked up to her. “Why would you want to betray your own kin?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “The throne was taken from me and I will take it back and whatever the cost.”

  The witch stopped close to Rosalis.

  “Pray tell, what does the future hold for me?”

  “You may not like what you see.”

  “Don’t waste my time, witch.” She suddenly snapped, her eyebrows twisting in a rising anger. The witch grabbed Rosalis’ arm and smelled it. She took off the gauntlet and tossed it to Uliraf who caught it. The witch smelled Rosalis’ hand, her nostrils going up to her wrist. She stuck her tongue out and licked her palm. Rosalis grimaced a little, but shook it off. The witch chuckled and beckoned her over to a basin. Rosalis walked up to it and looked down into it. One of the witches took a small sack and opened it up, pouring in some white powder. She muttered an incantation and suddenly, the powder set aflame. The fire crackled pleasantly, sparks of embers flying into the air. The witch in the middle looked at Rosalis and then back into the fire.

  “Stare into the flames.”

  Rosalis did so, not taking her eyes away from it.

  “What do you see?”

  “Scenes of battle...Good Lord, Frinnor is in chaos. I’ve never seen something like this.” Suddenly, another vision came to her. On the floor of the throne room, was her corpse, lying in a pool of its own blood. She gasped. The witch waved her hand and the flames quickly shrunk, dying out.

  “That will be your fate if you do not take back Frinnor. You must use every skill that you have at your disposal and be diligent and daring if you should stand a chance at surviving. Kill the regent, and the throne will be yours once more. Once you go to Frinnor, you will set off a chain of events that cannot be undone. You are heading into the storm now.”

  Rosalis turned, leaving, and Uliraf followed after her, falling into step beside her. Suddenly, the witch called out to her.

  “You have to meet with the demigod! He has a message for you both!”

  Uliraf immediately stopped and turned around. “What did you say?”

  “You heard what I said.”

  Uliraf blinked once and then turned back round, walking off. “What did you see?” He asked her.

  “The battle will be fierce, more than anything that has ever been fought. No. It will not be a battle, it will be a slaughter.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  Rosalis hesitated. “No, I did not.” She paused for a second, trying to occupy her mind with something else. “Who is this demigod?”

  “He is a man of myth. A warrior that sold his soul for ultimate power. He abused that power and was cursed to live for the rest of eternity, chained inside a mountain.” He suddenly scoffed. “But it is just a fairytale, something to tell the kids. He can’t be real.”

  “But the witch said it.”

  Uliraf sighed heavily. “That’s what scares me.”