It was said that even the most inhuman of the dead quivered when confronted by his visage.īut that was a lie, she thought as he crouched down beside her, his boots heavy in her line of sight. His castle held within it the gateway to the Abyss, the place where the servants of evil were banished after death to suffer eternal torment at the hands of the basilisks and the serpents, and he was the guardian of that terrible place. But this man, this "monster," was meant to be completely without heart, without soul. And yet no one made a sound.Ĭruelty was no stranger to her, not after having grown up with the Blood Sorcerer for a father. She could feel eyes on her, hundreds of them. The spell should have deposited her in the forests outside his domain, not in the midst of his great hall, where he stood as the lone, lethal shield against the vicious beings beyond. Sensing the vibration of the monster's boots getting ever closer, she took a deep breath, able to feel it rattle in her throat. "I took a beautiful witch to wife and got a hatchet-faced mewling brat in return."
"Weak." He had spit the judgment at her more than once. Her father would've sacrificed another without a thought to the life he took, would call her a fool for using her own blood. But her body was debilitated beyond bearing by the blood she had spilled to make the crossing, her wrists spotted with it, though her magic had sealed the wounds. Trying desperately to close her hand into a fist, she attempted to push herself up onto her knees, unwilling to meet him at such a disadvantage. As she watched, the one they called the Lord of the Black Castle rose from his ebony throne at the head of the room and walked down the ten steps with a lazy grace that spoke of power, strength.and death. It was the first thought Liliana had as she lay weak and drained across the black marble of the floor, her face reflected in its polished surface. H e was the most beautiful monster she had ever seen.
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