HIGH WITCH MORGANA POV
The scrying bowl burst in my hands.
Glass shards flew everywhere, cutting my hands as I jerked backward. The picture I'd been seeing vanished in a shower of sparks, but the image was burned into my mind forever.
Death. So much death.
"Morgana!" My trainee Elena rushed to my side. "What happened? What did you see?"
I stared at the blood dripping from my hands, trying to make sense of what I'd witnessed. "The Final Sacrifice ritual," I whispered. "If they perform it as planned, everyone dies. Not just the Shadow Lords—everyone."
Elena's face went pale. "That's impossible. The ancient books say—"
"The ancient texts are wrong!" I snapped, then instantly felt bad for yelling at her. Elena was just eighteen, barely finished with her training. She didn't deserve my fear and anger.
"I'm sorry," I said, more gently. "But we have a problem. A big one."