Mirrin looked up from the green mist that swirled around her fingers. Her face was tired but elated. The green of the magic reflected in her black eyes like green flames in a starless sky. She clapped her hands together and the mist between them exploded and then collapsed, the small, green particles sinking to the floor before disappearing. She snapped her fingers and the horned figure of Blackhorn detached itself from the shadows of the tent and stepped promptly to her side.
"It is time," she announced. "Soon they will be back in the Green Forest."
Blackhorn bowed, his black tattoos appearing to writhe across his back like living things. He asked, "You are not concerned that you do not know what was done at the Hall of Heroes?"
Mirrin dismissed the idea with a wave of her long white hand.
"It is true the magic around that place prevents me from seeing what was done, but I am the most powerful sorcereress Devorian has ever known. They are but children. Everything is coming together at last. I will go now and force them to lead me through the portal to their world. There I will retrieve the object of power, and then using it I will turn back time and bring the King of Tarah to his knees. It won't be long now."
"And the prisoners?"
"Release them," Mirrin commanded. "I have no use for a collection of talking squirrels and mice."
She took her red cloak from where it lay upon a gilded wooden chair and swept it over her shoulder, fastening the golden clasp at her throat. The contrast of the bright red against her white hair and black eyes was striking. She might once have been beautiful, under different circumstances.
"Summon the harpies. And make sure they are armed," she commanded.