Ellese sat back and rubbed her eyes, horrified by what she had seen in the scrying glass. The sisters of her abbey, who had gathered to hear her news, held their breath as they waited for her to speak, their faces worn by worry and despair. Ellese quelled a strong urge to break down and weep, stiffening her back as she raised her head and faced them.
“He is breaking the seventh ward.”
A great groan rose from them, and some of the younger girls burst into tears, their sobs tearing at Ellese’s fragile control.
“Hush now. Mirra has failed, yes. The black ship was too strong; the wind that blew it too powerful. She tried, sisters, she did her best, but perhaps she was sent too late. She should have been with him much longer. His faith in the Black Lord was stronger than we ever imagined, and that was what defeated her in the end.”
“We are doomed!” an acolyte wailed, weeping on her neighbour’s shoulder.
Ellese drank from her glass of water, unable to meet her sisters’ anguished eyes. “Perhaps; but Mirra has ensured Bane will survive this last ward, something the Black Lord had not planned on. We have one last hope, dear sisters.”
The sobbing subsided a little as the healers grew intent, listening.
“Bane is our hope now.” Ellese scanned their shocked, disbelieving faces, and smiled. “Yes. Bane. If the Black Lord is true to his nature, we have hope. It is our last chance, but one to which we must cling. Remember, Bane is as powerful as the Black Lord, and human. He is a mortal dark god.”
“But how can the Demon Lord save us?” an old healer asked.
The seeress shook her head. “I will spare you the details for now. Very soon, we will know, and then we will have a difficult task ahead of us, one that many of you will not want to undertake. If I am wrong, we are indeed doomed, and must prepare to meet the Lady. Let us hope, until then. Go about your duties. Gather sunlight and store it, as much as you can, for when the Black Lord rises we will not see the sun.”