Seven stood around the circle of blood twisted into a shape that would permanently warp the minds of mortals unlucky enough to view it.
It took the tiefling, Uganan, a long time to prepare it, his arm still tired from all the cutting. His yellow eyes shifted under the hood of his mottled robes to Shonvurru. She flashed her beautiful smile at him, opening her red lips to reveal her razor-sharp teeth. She raised herself up on her serpentine body and lifted her six arms. Black energy flowed from the palms of her hand and from her open mouth, spilling across the dark circle. The ground broke away under the energy, forming a deep pit into another world.
“It is done,” spoke the Marilith, turning to the demon-skull helmed priest who stood at the front of the seven. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his violet robes and beheld them. This is the last time all seven of them would be united, thought Arantham, but none of them had gotten into the Covenant on sentiment and no words spoke of the matter.
“Uganan, Hertrud, Mauglurien, Thax; enter Zvormarana. Perform Uganan’s rituals, find the skull, and pierce the walls of Letherna,” said Arantham. He looked to each of them, each one an elite agent of the Prince of Undeath.
“Visit the raven-haired bitch-queen and show her our lord’s knife.”