The sounds of the City of Thorns fade as Moonsong goes deeper. The heels of her boots echo along the narrow corridor. The stairs are illuminated by fires on the flanks. During all her trips to The Master's lair, Moonsong never saw minions working to keep the torches lit; she deduces that some kind of magic is involved.
After fifteen minutes of zigzagging descent, a white door blocks her path. It looks like ivory, but it is actually bone. Moonsong opens it and enters another corridor, short in length but wide enough to allow three carts to pass side by side. There are four full suits of armor in the corners; a superficial glance would make one believe they are decorative, but upon stepping closer, it is possible to glimpse the eye sockets of the skulls protected within the iron helmets, and the red points of light that make up the usual spectral gaze of the undead. Each sentinel wields a different weapon: a greatsword, a warhammer, a halberd, and the last, a three-headed spiked flail.
Moonsong thinks that perhaps, with some effort and a chance to play her flute, she could defeat those four undead. The problem is her certainty that The Master can use necromancy to summon many more soldiers. Perhaps even an army. She swallows hard at the thought that no other elf knows the latent danger dwelling beneath the tower.
The elf walks with her back straight and her head held high toward the threshold at the back, a space protected by heavy double stone doors. As soon as the woman stands before the doors, the undead from the nearby corners mobilize, using their tireless strength to push and open the entrance to the meeting hall.
Moonsong walks to the center of the meeting hall, plants one knee on the ground, and lowers her head. Ten paces ahead stands a woman with blue eyes, long amethyst hair, white skin, and a kind smile with a slight maternal nuance. She looks human, or perhaps a goddess, but the white horns protruding from her head and curling near her ears are an obvious clue to her demonic nature, as are the membranous wings jutting from her bare back. The dress the woman wears is black and red, with a generous neckline, a long skirt, and a trail of fishnet lace creeping up the contour of her thighs.
Dominus is a succubus. In any other situation, Moonsong would treat her with disdain, considering her a filthy creature only good for one thing: the amusement of men, or of women degenerate enough to enjoy the taste of their own kind. But in this case, Moonsong is careful and respectful even in her thoughts, because behind Dominus stands a wall with a giant skull carved in stone, from whose eyes an intense scarlet glow filters—a glow that, when touching you, feels like a horde of maggots. Whatever lies behind the wall, the elf understands it is an entity of impressive power.
"Moonsong, welcome," Dominus speaks with a tone of voice that, even without her trying, always sounds seductive and pleading. "We heard of your performance on the surface. Needless to say, I was deeply disappointed with the result."
"I know, and I apologize. I beg the master to be merciful and grant me a second chance," Moonsong replies without raising her head.
A sound like wind blowing inside a cavern echoes from the skull. Dominus observes the red light and nods. A pang of envy grows in Moonsong's heart at the thought of a creature as filthy as a succubus being one of the chosen few to communicate with a higher being.
"Second chances are the refuge of fools and the incompetent, Moonsong. If it were up to me, I would execute you and find a more reliable piece for our ends... But I am not the one making the decisions; the master is. And he insists on letting you live. In fact, he comments that what happened was quite enlightening."
"Enlightening?" Moonsong asks, resisting the urge to lift her face.
Dominus nods and smiles.
"The Master says that to win, you must know both your enemy and yourself. Perhaps if you had understood that, the outcome of the invasion would have been different. But from your reports, it is evident you didn't even suspect the humans had the power to change the walls."
Moonsong bites her lip, and although her pride urges her to answer back and defend herself, her sense of self-preservation forces her to stay quiet. Dominus continues speaking while, with flushed cheeks and eyes shining with adoration, she stares at the skull on the wall.
"Now, with these new details we know, it is evident what we must do... Moonsong, you go and convince the elves to prepare another invasion—a larger one, one where blood will turn the earth red forever. Right, master?"
"After what happened, I will need time and resources to convince the leaders..."
"We will give you what is necessary, and perhaps more than before." Dominus's countenance turns cold as she looks back at the elf. "Push yourself as hard as you can. There won't be a third chance, you can count on that."
"And what will happen to the power that changed the walls?"
"Isn't it obvious? It will have to be destroyed. But you focus on your part, Moonsong. Our piece in the castle will take care of this little obstacle."
Dominus's beautiful face displays a cruel smile.