Demon Age: Will of Shadows

Prologue

Thunder boomed overhead and slick black rains soaked the group of heroes. They struggled onward, slipping and sliding among the scattered crags that dotted the mouldering landscape of the Twilight Lands. Lightening crashed around them and scarred the earth. When they reached the yawning mouth of the cave only seven of them remained and they were stinking and soaked by the oily downpour.

Princess Regesh was the first to enter, followed closely by the assassin, the mage and the two dwarves. The others struggled through shortly after, bruised, battered and bleeding from a slew of wounds and cuts. The princess paused long enough to let her eyes adjust to the darkness before pushing on, a grim look on her face. Her red braid had gone black and was plastered to her skin, trailing down her body until it disappeared into the shadows of her curves. The heavy sword that hung from her back had disappeared too, swallowed up in the darkness by the soot and grime that covered it.

When they reached the gate, the warlock pushed his way to the front and took his place beside Princess Regesh. She bristled. She had hoped the old man wouldn't make it up the mountain.

"I believe this is where I take the lead, princess," he drawled, in the spindly accent she had come to hate. "You may step aside."

Princess Regesh did nothing to conceal her disdain from the old wizard.

Mage Yorghul was the ugliest man she had ever seen and the oldest too. Long grey locks hung around him heavy and stinking and his faded purple robes were covered in stains. He seemed untouched by the rain, the result of some spell he had cast, but he looked shabby all the same. Yorghul clutched his gnarled stave and studied her with milk white eyes that made the princess shiver.

He had been a thorn in her side from the moment they had set out on their quest from the Black Palace. The highest ranking priest in the Temple of Ashusrith, the mage found it an insult to take orders from a young girl - even if she was a descendent of the Demon Prince. The princess and the warlock had come to heads several times on their long journey, and once had even come to blows. Princess Regesh had come out triumphant, though, and was determined to avoid any further conflict in the last leg of their journey.

She gave the man an almost imperceptible nod and stepped to the side. The gate loomed before them, but she never took her eyes off the mage.

Yorghul approached the Gate of Doom with a look of reverence and awe on his face.

It had taken them more than three months to find the gate and it had cost them dearly. The journey had seen them leave the comforts of the city behind and enter strange worlds they had never fathomed before. The group of heroes had crossed boiling oceans and seas made of glass and at the end, when it seemed they could no longer go on, they had then been forced to flee for their lives up into the dangerous peaks of the Ysh Pinnacles, where they had sought the Gate of Doom and the Holy Crones who could give them the answers they sought.

The crones weeks behind them, they finally stood before the gate that could bring them to the end of their quest. Princess Regesh felt anything but relief, however.

Wind howled through the tunnel around them and for a moment it was as if the wolves were among them once more. The first packs had come on only days after leaving behind the Oracle of the Crones. As they had climbed higher into the Pinnacles, the attacks increased in severity. Three men had been lost on the first day. Two on the next. More of her men had been lost on their climb into mountains of the Twilight Lands than their entire journey combined. Princess Regesh fingered the dagger at her hip and urged the warlock to hurry forward.

"I know why we're here, princess," he spat as he let his fingers trace the corners of the gate gingerly.

It was smaller than she had imagined, with narrow columns on each side and a plain door cut into the rock. The mage's hands searched all over the smooth face and when he was done, he took a step back and tucked one tepid white hand beneath his chin.