The Hags’ attempt to free their mother, and along with that shatter the defensive shield holding back the hordes from the Demon Wastes, had failed. First, their invasion of Breland – a feint, really – had fallen apart under the weight of its own disorganization, and the persistent and skilled attacks of a particular team of partisans along the southern front. The Hags’ had read their versions of the Prophecy, too, and yet weren’t able to capitalize on it as they’d wanted. Their near victory in the Icehorn Mountains – so close were they to achieving the release of Sora Kell! – was even more stinging, once they realized the same ‘partisans’ were involved.
Who were these warriors? From where had they come? What power seemed to propel them between the key junctures of the Prophecy, and how was it, as troubling as it seemed, that they were at least aware enough of its ancient mysteries to make use of it?
What next? If they could not release Sora Kell, then the next step in the plan would require another approach…another means of breaking the seals, and of releasing that which could shatter the world and thus enable them to bring about the fruition of their entire plan. An army of monsters? A tool. Droaam? A means to an end. The destruction of the rule of men, and full subjugation of all races under a new order, born from the most ancient of powers? That was the goal, the dream: a complete turning of the wheel, back to a better time, when those now thought bound would rule again, and forever.
Another path…and time. That is what it would take.