The witch inclined her hooded head. "Then you'll need more than this relic. More than spells. More than conventional power."
"What do I need?"
The scarred hand opened the black book. Pages rustled, ancient and fragile, covered in text that seemed to writhe in the firelight.
"Knowledge," the witch said. "Preparation. And a willingness to use methods that even Pyronox himself would condemn."
Vetra's smile returned. Cold. Sharp. Absolutely merciless.
"Then let's begin."
Outside, snow began to fall. Soft. Silent. Covering the palace grounds in fresh white that would be beautiful by morning.
Inside Vetra's chambers, three women bent over a black book covered in ancient symbols.
Planning.
Plotting.
Preparing to unleash something that should have stayed buried.
