Prologue
The last block was hammered into place, sparks flashing in the darkness as metal clanged against stone. The ring of shadowy figures retreated, heads bowed as their leader raised his hands.
“It is done,” said a voice, deep and whispery. “The power of the Wise Ones is sealed.”
“And what now?” asked another, in a hoarse croak.
“Now we wait,” purred a woman. “We wait until the appointed time, when the Full Moon of Magister is in adjunction with the Seventh Sign of the House of Mordoran; for then it is foretold that the unsuspecting children will arrive to re-awaken the ancient force that resides within this place.”
“And then we make our move,” said the whispery voice. “The power of the Wise Ones will be ours, and the world will suffer in the grip of the Shadow Clan.”
A discordant gabble of cheers, hoots and whistles filled the blackness. Outside, the twisted branches of a dead tree reached into the night sky, grasping at the ashen orb of the moon.
The wait had begun; and the wait would last five hundred years…