THE CLOUDS ROILED THICK AND BLACK over the dark keep. Outside the window slits, thunder rolled and lightning flashed with a greater ferocity than Ceradin Ravengaard had ever known. It was as if the storm sensed something was about to happen.

It had now been several hours since Caranaxus had come to him; not that time had any meaning in this infernal place. The Witch had revealed that the spells to break down the barriers had been located. 

Now she and the other sorcerers studied them. They had but one chance to use the conjurations. Everything needed to be correct, one word spoken out of place or used incorrectly could render the spells useless.

He paced the floor of his chambers. The winds that moaned around the ravaged walls caught the many flickering candle flames that lit the room and whipped at his cloak, sending a shiver through his frame. He grew impatient now that he was so close to escaping from this hell that he was forced to live in.

At least those interfering children were no longer a threat to his plans. Maelgwn had returned from the caves with the news that they had been destroyed.  

Ravengaard turned and walked to the fire that blazed in the hearth. Sparks popped and crackled, caught by the wind, they swirled out into the room. The Warlock smiled, waved a hand towards them. The sparks danced in front of him, coalescing into a glowing ember that floated above his outstretched palm. He studied it, the heat reflecting in his coal black eyes.

Soon, he thought. I will take my revenge on your insignificant little worlds. I  will unleash a thousand years of pent up anger upon your lands and you will surrender to my dominion, or you will die.  

A sudden sound drew his attention back to the room. He crushed the ember in his fist, letting the ashes drop coldly to the floor. 

There was movement in the hallway outside the door.

Sscarr slithered out from its resting place behind the throne, it let out a warning hiss and its tongue flicked out to taste the air within the room.

'Enter,' Ravengaard called out.

'Master. It is I, your loyal servant Wyther,' a harsh voice echoed from the passageway. 'I have news.'

'Stop snivelling and come in,' the Warlock shouted furiously. ' But I warn you, it had better be good news.'

A Goblyn appeared in the doorway. Its yellow eyes blinked, more used to the gloom of its underground lairs than the harsh candlelight. It hesitated, glancing about the room, then, claws clicking on the stone floor, it crossed towards Ravengaard. Battle Chieftain Wyther was bigger, stronger and slightly more intelligent than the majority of his brutish species. Clothed in rusted armour and chainmail, he carried with him an array of weapons all heavily pitted and tarnished from battle. One, of the dozens bred in the lightless vaults deep in the bowels of Ravens Bane. The Warlock spent time working the magic and dark potions until he had shaped the perfect weapons to lead his armies.

Its horned head bowed slightly as it approached.

'I bring good news. The armies of the Dark Domain stand ready, my lord.' Wyther answered. 'They are ready to pour forth and do battle on your command.'             

Ceradin Ravengaard smiled once more, this was indeed a good day.

In the pits below the castle, he had discovered a vast system of caves and caverns that spread through the surrounding area. It was home to a Goblyn race, creatures of darkness and half-light. Once surface dwellers, they found themselves driven underground when the surface world became uninhabitable. They were a wild nomadic race, split into various tribes that were endlessly at war with each other. Ravengaard soon assimilated himself into one of the tribes. With the help of his magic, he performed seemingly wondrous illusions, which to the Goblyns primitive mind were the workings of one of the Forsaken Gods they worshipped. News of his coming spread among the tribes and slowly the overcame their tribal instincts. He gathered them together, forging them into a great army a hundred thousand strong. Now, along with other creatures trapped in the Evermurk, they stood ready to do his bidding.

Ravengaard stepped away from the warmth of the fire. 'Even now my Acolytes are readying the spells that will return us to my world. Once they are triggered you will stand ready for my orders.'

Wyther nodded uneasily. The creature called Sscarr prowled the room, its eyes never leaving the Goblyn. Ravengaard twisted his fingers through his beard and smiled. 'Sscarr, get back,' he scolded. 'I will feed you in a moment.'

The thing ignored the Sorcerer's admonishment and continued to stalk the Goblyn, who backed away nervously, keeping the open doorway between himself and the creature.

'When we break through,' Ravengaard continued 'We need to create a bridgehead to protect Ravens Bane. By now those cursed Elves will no doubt be expecting us. Much will have changed since my banishment. But if all goes well, we should succeed in pushing back our enemies and establishing a foothold before making further inroads into the lands I would reclaim.'

'Go, finish making the preparations,' Ravengaard instructed. 'See to it that my legions are ready to wage war. Tell them I will join them shortly.'

Wyther bowed his head, but his eyes never left the toad-like creature. 

'At once Master,' the Goblyn said with a low growl. 

Ravengaard watched him slink out of the room, then turned and crossed to a large glass container that sat on a bench. He reached in and pulled out a wriggling bundle of fur. He held it up, stroking it gently, the rabbit-like creature squeaked softly as Ravengaard set it down on the floor. It sat there momentarily, its nose twitched, sensing danger. But before it could scurry away Sscarr was upon it. There was a crunch of bone and the small creature vanished.

With a peal of rasping laughter, Ravengaard reached into the container once again.

The air around Ravens Bane crackled with energy. The massive keep seemed to pulse, the stonework radiated power, glowing brightly in the darkness that surrounded it.

Inside one of the lower chambers, Ravengaard and his nine Acolytes stood. Their faces hidden in shadow beneath the cowls of their black robes. Each Acolyte grasped the hand of the next, encircling the stone well that stretched down into the deepest reaches of the Evermurk. Each had a part to perform in the sorcerous rites. As they incanted the archaic words, mystical bands of wraithlike energy curled up from the well, pulled from the pool of pervading evil that seethed and oozed far beneath the surface of the world. Rippling around them, the energy sparked and jumped from one figure to the next until the circle was complete.     

'Nactel obdilact, scy'lictas agridyr.'  they cried out in unison.

Within the confines of the well, a roaring wind started to build and the dark matter began to push upwards. Like a living thing, it crept towards the lip of the well. 

Ravengaard stepped forward until he stood next to the low wall that surrounded the well. He braced himself at the centre of the circle. Then, like the spokes of a giant mystical wheel, the force flowed from each of his Acolytes, arcing across the gap and into his body. He staggered slightly as the power surged through him. But he recovered, forcing himself to stand upright.

His dark eyes glowed with a bright madness as he drew the energy deep within himself. He felt it growing, threatening to overwhelm him. 

Just a little more, he thought.

His teeth clenched in agony, he fought against a rising scream. He could endure the pain. It would be worth it in the end.

Just a little more.

One by one his followers collapsed to the floor, unconscious, the power draining from their bodies.

Slowly, Ravengaard raised his arms towards the roiling vortex that spun in the well beside him.

'Nactel obdilact, scy'lictas agridyr.' he screamed over the howling of the winds. He let the buildup of mystical forces flow from him. They joined with the darkness that burst from the well and formed in the air above his head, coalescing into a blackness that crackled with untold energies. Spinning and swirling the mass gathered speed.

'Nactel obdilact, scy'lictas agridyr.' he cried again at the top of his voice. 'Byl'mrac redelarc gry'scarius.'

Flinging his arms wide, he turned his eyes towards the great vault above him and sent the dark energies spearing upwards to explode through the centre of the tower. It ripped apart the wood, stone and plaster reducing it to little more than dust on its way up into the whirling black cauldron that bubbled high overhead.

The Warlock fell to his knees as the energy drained from his body. He grabbed for the edge of the well steadying himself, fighting off the feeling of nausea and weakness that threatened to plunge him into unconsciousness. 

As the magic knifed across the gulf and up into the clouds there was a deep booming thunderclap that shook Ravens Bane to its very foundations. Then all went silent. The wind died to a murmur and the swirling ominous clouds slowed almost to a stop.

Ravengaard regained his footing, angry at the show of weakness. He gritted his teeth against the sickness that welled up inside him and gazed up at the darkness. Beside him, Caranaxus slowly climbed to her feet.

She gazed upwards, through the shattered floors of the keep.

'It is happening Master,' she whispered. 'Look.'

Ravengaard followed her gaze. From somewhere within the clouds above Ravens Bane the roaring started once more. It grew closer with each passing second. Before their eyes, the clouds started spinning, folding in on themselves. A void appeared. A portal like a tear in the fabric of the sky itself. It dropped lower, darker than the blackness that surrounded it.

The other acolytes were now back on their feet, gathering around Ravengaard. They watched in awe as the portal slowly descended. The roaring grew closer and a great rushing wind seemed to spring up, sucking at the air around them, threatening to tear everything asunder with its power. The portal sank lower. As it touched the upper reaches of the tower, dark shards of power flickered about the stonework. Then all appeared to dissolve into nothingness. 

Some of the acolytes gasped in fear and backed towards the doorway seeking a means of escape.

'Stand fast,' Ravengaard bellowed at them. 'All will be well. The magic is mine to command; it will do you no harm.'

They looked on in disbelief, unsure whether to believe him or not. But none dared to move.

Then it was upon them.

Shadowy darkness engulfed the cowering figures. The room and its occupants wavered slightly, then began to melt away.

The portal moved on, creeping down the walls of the dark keep until all trace of Ravens Bane was removed from the Dark Domain. 

The Elves keeping watch over Ravengaard Manor felt it first. A deep thrumming filled the air, causing the windows and doors of the manor house to rattle and shake.

Upstairs in the bedroom, the occupants slept on in their magically induced sleep, unaware of the events outside. 

Above the house, darker than the night sky surrounding it, a vast portal started to open. An electrical storm flashed and rumbled as great glowing balls of lightning zigzagged across the rift, lighting up the fields and woodland. Gradually the portal sank lower. As it did so the ghostly image of a massive keep began to materialize over the house. The manor house started to fade away as the portal moved ever downwards. Then the house vanished completely, and after innumerable millennia, Ravens Bane once again stood in its place.

Pulses of unearthly matter began to ripple from the keep, burrowing into the ground, spreading Ravengaard's evil out into the surrounding countryside.

The watching Elves turned away from the frightening sight before them. Swiftly they made their way back to Ellyonia. The Empire needed warning of the Warlock's return. 

Wrapped in its hedge of nettles and brambles, The Whispering Tree felt a sudden dark malevolence sweep down across the fields.  

Aeons ago a vast underground system of roots had linked all the trees in the forest together, allowing them to communicate with each other. As time had passed and the vast forests had been cut down and destroyed, that system had declined. But enough of it still lingered for him to know what had caused the change. 

He had experienced it once before, many centuries ago. 

A great shudder racked Oaktooth; it could only signify one thing, an age-old evil had once again returned. 

He drew himself in, hunched down among the surrounding brambles and nettles as best he could and waited.

Ceridwen felt a shift in the fields of invisible magic that bound her cottage. She shivered, looking up from what she was doing. She knew immediately grasped what had caused it. Such a massive disturbance in the magical fields could only mean one thing. Ravengaard and his evil had returned.

A worried look crossed her face; she had not heard anything from either of the parties that had gone in search of the one missing gemstone.

Was that a good or bad thing?

She was unsure.

She reached out and stroked Sorrows thick fur, the wolf-dog pressed closer, sensing all was not well.

'Quickly boy, go now, be my eyes and ears. Keep watch for our friends and bring them to me,' she whispered to him. 'I have much to prepare before they return.'

Ceridwen opened the door and Sorrow bound outside. He raced across the clearing; triggering the transformation from wolf into the monstrous Vorkun beast as he did so. She stood for a moment and watched him disappear into the trees.

Closing the door behind her Ceridwen stood in the centre of the room. Lifting her arms to shoulder height, she spread them as wide as her old bones would allow. Closing her eyes and turning to all four corners of the cottage she murmured a spell of concealment. 

Out in the forest, Sorrow stopped and looked back across the grassy clearing.

He growled softly, as the cottage faded from view. 

Caen Avery Oryxicus, King of the Elves, stumbled from his bed. His head spun. He staggered slightly and grasped the bedpost for support. In the near darkness, he reached for his robe. 

It was the middle of the night. 

What was all the commotion in the hallway?

Before he could reach his door, it burst open, flooding his chamber with light from the passageway beyond.

The King blinked in the sudden glare.

'W...what is the meaning of this intrusion?' he stammered, still half asleep. 

Keir Fellmyrr, his Chief Advisor, Halmar Quynn, Grand Commander of the Elven armies, crowded in, accompanied by several High Spellcasters and other members of the Elven Council.

'We are sorry, sire,' the Chief Advisor puffed apologetically. 'But it is grave news I am afraid.' 

The King noted the look of fear in his eyes. 'Speak up, Keir, what is it?'

He glanced across at the Elven enchanters who had entered the room with him. 'The Spellcasters tell me there has been a disturbance in the magic that strengthens the Veil. And although it has not been breached, they tell me that a disturbance of that magnitude could only be caused by one thing. An extremely powerful magic has stirred in the outer world. They fear it is as prophesied sire. Ravengaard has returned.'

The King hesitated, he seemed unsure what to say. 

'Sire...' Keir Fellmyrr urged. 'What would you have us do?'

'Yes...Sorry. I...If what you say is true, then we must be...' he caught the eye of Halmar Quynn. 'Commander...what would you do in this situation?'

Halmar Quynn glanced at the Chief Advisor. A concerned look flashed across his face. 'Sire, are you well?' he asked. 

'Yes, of course...now, where were we.'

'Having your armies assembled, Sire,' Halmar put in quickly. 'And we will move to confront him before he has time to establish himself in this world.'

Caen Oryxicus thought for a moment, a vague look in his eyes. 'Yes...A good plan. Now see my orders are carried out.' 

Halmar shrugged and bowed. 'At once sire,' he called out as he turned and left the room. He could be heard shouting orders to his captains as he ran down the passageway.

'Where is my daughter?' the King asked. 'I would speak with her.' 

'I am afraid she is not here, my lord. She is away on a quest. We have heard nothing from her or her companions,' the Advisor answered. 'Do you not remember?'

A puzzled expression crossed his features. 'Yes...I remember. Of course, I remember. She is...' his voice trailed off as he tried to think.

Keir Fellmyrr ushered the others out of the room, then turned back to the King. 'Sire, something is plainly wrong here. Let me summon your physician.'

'No. There is nothing wrong...I am just tired...that is all.' 

'Are you sure?' Keir pressed. 

'Yes...yes. Now leave me.' 

The Advisor bowed. 'As you wish Sire. I will keep you informed.'

As he reached the doorway, he nodded to one of the Royal Guard.

'Keep a close eye on the King, if there is any change, summons me immediately.'

Keir stepped into the passageway. Prince Dauld moved out of the shadows where he had been lurking.

'A word if you please, Fellmyrr.' he snapped. 

'Yes, what is it Dauld,' Keir asked irritably.

Anger flashed on the Prince's features. 'That would be Prince Dauld or your Majesty,' he said sharply.

The Advisor bowed slightly, giving the Prince a look of distaste. 'Your Majesty...'

'My Father; do you think he is up to taking charge of this situation? He seems distracted, unsure. We do not want to rush into things. Perhaps a calmer head would be more suited at the moment. If I may offer...'

'If you are going to put yourself forward,' Keir interrupted. 'Then no. Now is not the time for a change. Afterwards, we may speak of it. Discuss it, as is proper, with the council.'

'Very well,' Dauld snapped. 'I hope for your sake that everything turns out well. I only seek what is best for the Elven race.'

The Elven Advisor bowed again. 'Yes, I am sure you do Prince. Now if you please, there is much to do.' he said softly continuing along the passageway.

Prince Dauld watched him go. Anger flaring in his eyes.

As next in line to the Elven throne, he had hoped to get the Royal Advisor on his side. Have his Father declared unfit to rule. But things were moving too fast. He had listened as the Spellcasters discussed the use of the four gemstones known as the Arcs of Heaven and how their use could help rid the world of Ravengaard. Even now his sister and those accursed children were seeking out the remaining stone. And although they had heard nothing from them, if he knew anything of his sister and her so-called friends, she would be successful in her quest. By all means, use the magic to send Ravengaard back to the Evermurk. But what if their use were to be delayed...allowing the Warlock's magic to complete its work...delayed, so the changes could not be reversed...then mankind would suffer terribly. He had plans in motion that would benefit greatly from Ravengaard's bid to conquer the outside world. If he could gain control of the magic his sister sought, use it for is own purpose. Then the Elves; his Elves could come out of hiding once more. They could once again rule what was rightfully theirs instead of skulking behind a veil of magic. He was determined that nothing, not even Ravengaard, would stand in his way.

But unless he could find a way of delaying the use of the magic...