A suffocating blanket of black clouds pressed down on the city, streaked with a dense web of lightning that flickered without pause. The ceaseless, rolling thunder and the violent cracks of lightning filled the demonic monsters emerging from the Black Tower with a primal fear. Lightning was the natural enemy of all dark things.
From her palace chamber, the Witch watched the storm rage outside her window. A tangled knot of oppression, anxiety, and unease tightened in her chest, a disquiet that made the very shadows in the tower seem to writhe and hiss.
"Is this the omen of a coming battle?" she whispered to herself. She was sensitive to such things, and she felt a deep sense of dread. This sixth sense had saved her life countless times before.
It's been a long time since I've felt this way, she mused. The last time... I think it was when the commander and the Deputy Commander were hunting me.
