THE CRIES OF VULTURES and the shrillings of other carrion-feeding birds echoed in the stark wilderness outside the Tower. The sun was fierce, so fierce it almost transformed the little flecks of sand to burning kindle. The twin mountains gleamed red with peaks that blurred in the heat of the sun.
Yet, under the large shadows of the circling birds, in the midst of the bleak wastelands and monstrous cliffs stood the Tower of Ides, a proud beacon of magical power. The entire halls of it bore no heat. It had no influence whatsoever from the sultry heat of the desert.
The five friends sat at the longtable with Antiope at the head of it. Marsil and Ferra to the left of it, and Katrina, Esabel and Hemlock took the right. All eyes shined at the demon as he spoke, words uttered with a commanding unnatural timbre.
"In the ancient times," Antiope began.
"You mean before the Night Wars?" Hemlock jutted.
Esabel smacked his arm, giving a look to shush him.
