He took the cup in his large hand and brought it to his lips. He examined the coarse black mineral the cup was made of. It appeared to be so dark as to absorb light. He felt the liquid travel down his throat and his thirst was quenched as it had never been before.
“Your son still lives at this hour. He is with a witch. She is cunning. I would suggest you take care of the matter as soon as possible.”
The effects of the drink were beginning to take hold. His mind filled with euphoric visions of bloody triumph. He could feel the sheer power coursing in his veins.
“You mean for me to return in that maze to slay a mutant baby?”
“If he is your only blood as you say, then he is the only one who can ever stop you.”
“If he lives to see the sun rise, I would be stunned. He will not grow to be a warrior with the strength to slay me.”
“Very well. However, the possibility is there. Know that once you leave this forest you may never return. It is forbidden.”
“That is of little concern.”
William filled the cup from the bottle again and downed its contents. His grey eyes grew darker. He could see clearly in the darkness now. The old man’s eyes before him were a milky opalescent. A blind man in an abandoned tavern in the middle of nowhere. This was either an old fool or a specter handing him a power from across the divide. He examined the cup again before tucking it securely beneath his breastplate.