The sorcerer turned toward the dark corner of the chamber, where the shadows shifted and grew.
"Yes," a voice hissed. It was Lord Vorlag. "You did well. I could almost kiss you."
The sorcerer muttered something under his breath in irritation, ignoring the comment. He moved to the altar, dragging a clawed finger across its surface. Blood welled up from the cut, spreading in thin lines over the stone.
The air thickened. A dark smoke rose up from the altar and took the shape of a woman, Akira.
The sorcerer's eyes gleamed. "Find her," he said coldly. "The time draws near. We must begin the ritual to free Dragoth."
Akira bowed her head slightly, then dissolved into smoke and vanished.
The cave fell silent again, except for the soft dripping of blood from the altar.
The sorcerer smiled to himself, his eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light.
