![]() “You’re onboard, then? What changed your mind?” “These plans of yours,” the Torment said, “the plans you’ve made with my fellow Children of the Spider. What had Madame Mist said about the Torment? Once upon a time, he’d been formidable, he’d been dangerous, but he was an old man now, a good blade that had lost its edge. “Consider them marked,” said the man with the golden eyes. A few more years and she’ll be a threat, you mark my words.” The old man stopped beside him, cupped his hands and blew into them to warm them. There was movement behind him, but he didn’t turn. How many times had he been in similar circumstances, enduring discomfort while he waited for the perfect time to strike? More than he could remember, that was for sure. Up on the hill, watching them, a man with golden eyes pulled the collar of his coat tighter in a vain attempt to stave off the cold. He camp was dark and quiet, and the Warlocks slept. Now please, for the love of whatever god you pray to, leave me alone. ![]() ![]() I know some of you by name and some of you by sight (and some of you by smell, but let’s not get into that) but there are still countless others I have never met, and to all of you I say thank you for your support, your passion, and your lunacy. Whether you are a Minion or a Skuttlebug or just, you know, a normal person, it’s because of you that I get to do what I love and laughingly call it work. ![]()
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