THE PROPHECY
Finally, they approached the great sorcerer's cottage. They were soaked by the torrential downpour. The cottage was perched atop a tall, jagged cliff, one would wonder how it made sense.
It defied all the laws of physics.
The windows were cracked and broken, the roof was leaking and the door creaking on rusty hinges. The whole place had a sense of decay, with a feeling of ancient magic hanging in the air.
The drenched and weary Zagaroth and guards, dismounted from their horses and carriages as they approached the door of the great sorcerer. They knocked tentatively, unsure of what to expect. After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a hunched wizened figure in the shadows.
"Greetings greetings." The figure croaked. "Come in, come in. I see you have brought me a gift."
They stepped inside, carrying the glass jar with zeldox within.