Black skies threatened the land below as the clouds continued to rumble with rage-filled curses. The morning had been unkind to Western Luvelles, punishing the terrain with pebble-sized hail and earth-scarring strikes of electrical fury. The forest had taken the brunt of the storm, the high winds abusing many of the tall evergreen trees, causing their branches to fall heavily to the ground. Countless mud-filled puddles could hardly be avoided, staining the white dress of a severely injured woman.

Shalee Goodrich, powerful sorceress and queen to the Kingdom of Brandor, gritted her teeth in agony. Her moans could be heard as she crawled along the muddy road leading away from the Swamp. The open wound across her abdomen marked an easy trail to follow for the dark figure stalking her. Her flight had slowed and now, the once-sporadic speckled drops of blood were turning into smaller coin-shaped areas of saturated earth.

The hunter knew his prey was beginning to tire. He smiled as he bent down, rubbing his hand across the stained dirt.

“You can’t run forever,” he whispered. “Your blood gives you away! It didn’t have to end, but I’m going to miss you!” Methodically, he rubbed the essence of her life between his fingertips and tasted it.

Shalee crawled off the road and into the forest. Her forearms were torn from the gravel embedded in her skin. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as her body continued to lose its heat, but she managed to force herself into an upright position against a large stone. The blade of her assailant had made a clean cut. She tried using her magic to cauterize the wound, but failed.

Why can’t I use my magic? Her mind screamed for answers, but none could be found. Again she closed her eyes and tried to teleport. Nothing—there was no escape.

I’ve got to get out of here. He’s going to kill me. It wasn’t long before her attacker stood above her, looking down with eyes full of evil intent.

Allow me to take you back 80 Peaks of Bailem