The boom of the stone doors echoed the slamming of a cage. The torchlight painted the cavern in flickering, hellish shades of orange and red, revealing the sheer scale of the ambush. Elite cultist warriors lined the walls, standing on carved ledges like silent, porcelain-faced gargoyles. They were clad in dark, hardened leather armor, each one armed with wickedly curved swords that pulsed with a faint, corrupt energy.
The High Priest let out a soft, condescending chuckle. "Such a clever plan," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "The bait, the hook. We were so very impressed. It is a shame you are merely actors in a play we wrote long ago."
He gestured to a large, ornate stand next to the fleshy altar. Resting upon it was a sphere of polished, black obsidian, about the size of a human head. As they watched, a single, glowing red iris opened within its depths, swiveling to fix its gaze directly on Edward.
