"Not as funny as your big butt, either." Lee wrinkled his nose. "You're cursed to have cellulite when you're older. You know that - right?"

"Cut it out you two." Samuel Guthrie - Samantha's father - called out from the deck of the lake house. "Start gatherin' yer stuff. We have a surprise for ya' back at the house."

Reluctantly, Chastity and Samantha began packing up their belongings, grumbling under their breath. Lleander, however, sat motionless. His large black eyes were clouded over and vacant; a sure sign that he was having an unexpected glimpse of the future.

"Oh, CRAP!" Chastity exclaimed as she rushed over to Lee's side. "Don't do this, Lee. Every time you go all mental and stuff, really bad things happen."

A second later, a massive wolf-like creature with matted, reddish-brown fur smashed through the underbrush surrounding the lake house and bounded towards the children.

**********

Lleander's vision was a frenzied series of stolen moments and staccato images. The young boy saw the massing of dark forces and his loved ones in dire peril. He saw his father, Charles Xavier, battered and weary, alone on the astral plane. A dark figure appeared before him, a malevolent grin on its elegant features. Upon its brow a glowing red gemstone was flanked by a crown of black crystal shards. The gemstone flared and the scene was swallowed by a sudden burst of sound and light. A vivid spectacle of what was to come battered the young boy's senses. It was a vision of unspeakable atrocities: an entire world ablaze. And the key to it all was Chastity Wagner.

**********

Katya Rasputin wiped away the last of her tears. She felt tapped out, as if she would never cry again. The grief over her missing family members was overwhelming, but she reluctantly concluded that a pity party would get her no closer to locating them. She placed the holoempathic crystal given to her by Dante onto a shelf and turned to leave her room. It wasn't until then that she noticed the flickering of light and shadows spilling in from underneath her bedroom door.

At first she thought there was a fire and that smoke was filtering into the room. She tentatively tested the door handle to see if it radiated heat. There was none. She was about to turn the knob when an unexpected pounding on the door startled her and she jumped back.

"Katya - you still in there?"

It was Dante. The door opened slightly and the young man tentatively stuck his head into the room. "You okay? There's some weird stuff going on out here and just wanted make sure you were alright."

Katya blushed and let out a sigh of relief. She had been wound so tight that the least little thing seemed to make her jump. "I'm fine. What sort of 'stuff' are you talking about?" She stepped into the hallway with him and into an inky, mist-like fog that danced around their feet.

"What the heck is this muck?" She wrinkled her nose in mild disgust.

Dante absentmindedly scratched the back of his head. "Beats the heck out of me. I was hoping you might know."

Before Valence could respond, a sudden rush of wind swept through the hallway nearly toppling her to the floor. Dante caught her and pulled her close, blocking the brunt of the gale. The fog responded as well, caught in the vortex of swiftly moving air, it was pulled along the hallway and down the stairs to the lower level of the mansion.

"Okay, that was major league creepy." Valence pulled away from Dante and started running down the hall. "Come on. Let's find out what the heck is going on." Without hesitation, Dante bounded down the stairs after Katya, following the trail of the retreating mist.

"Here - take my hand." Katya reached back without slowing her pace. Dante sprinted to catch up with her just in time to make contact before they slammed into a heavy wooden door. Dante felt a bit nauseous as his body was phased through the solid panel. He suddenly felt as if a million ants were crawling underneath his skin.

"Okay, that was just too freaky for words."

"Sorry about that." Katya apologized without missing her stride. The fog continued its retreat, but she was quickly loosing ground. Dante scooped her up in his arms and with a remarkable burst of speed, was able to keep a steady pace with the mist. "You keep doing your ghost thing, and I'll get my run on." Dante smiled as they phased through another set of doors.

Ultimately, they followed the retreating vapors into the Infirmary, arriving just in time to see the remains of the Dark Force matter recoiling into Lord Beltane's body. A cyclone of the dark matter engulfed the demon completely and when its vortex came to an end, Lord Beltane had vanished. In his wake he left a befuddled Dante and Valence along with a severely injured Hank McCoy cradling the ravaged body of his son, Richard.

**********

Chastity Wagner screamed like a banshee at the site of the advancing creature. She had thought him to be a nightmare, the result of too many late night scary movies and horror stories, but the monster from her closet was all too real and looked ravenous enough to eat her in one big bite.

Pup made a final lunge; his massive maw gaped wide open. The were-thing yelped as it was stopped in mid-flight - caught in the grip of a giant earthen hand. Scirocco hovered overhead, held adrift on air currents bent to his will. Bits of earth and rock orbited his hands and lightning arced between them.

Enraged, Pup struggled against the vice-like grip of the stone hand, raking huge chunks away with each swipe of his gargantuan paws.

"Bad dog!" Scirocco shouted. "I think Fido needs a bath."

He motioned dramatically and, following his command, the earth that had erupted to capture Pup completely uprooted and went sailing into the middle of the lake.

"Everyone - we have to get to the tunnels..."

"It is far too late for that, whelp." Herne stepped from the shadows of the trees, a pack of wolfhounds pulled against their leads. At his side, Wrath, formerly known as Dog, crouched in anticipation of the hunt. Strings of drool ran down the sides of his mouth as he bared sharp incisors.

Following Scirocco's mental command the ground beneath where the demon hounds stood opened up, pulling them into a dark chasm. Wrath jumped to one side and Herne merely levitated over the gorge and held tight to the hounds' leashes. The cords of his muscular arm bulged under the weight of the beasts, but with one Herculean effort he lifted the beasts from the pit. Obeying his mental command, the chains binding the hounds retracted, leaving the creatures to form a pack around the children.

The ground beneath the kids trembled and fractured into three distinct pieces each rising into the air, suspended on antigravitons. The miniature islands drifted to Scirocco's side, high enough to keep them from the snapping jaws of the hounds.

"Hold on. We're getting out of here." Uzuri called out to the children and began his retreat.

"Daddy! Do something!" Samantha Guthrie cried out. She looked down at the deck of the boathouse where her father and Lila Cheny stood. Sam Guthrie clenched the railing until his knuckles turned white. His breathing was labored and ragged and ink-black veins snaked their way across his skin. His eyes turned blood red and a mask of hatred covered his face.

"The Master has come. You will go with him."

Lila repeated the chant. "The Master has come. You will go with him."

In a heartbeat Sam Guthrie, Cannonball, propelled himself skyward, driven by an inferno of kinetic energy released from his lower extremities. He plowed into Scirocco, driving him away from the children.

"DADDY!" Samantha screamed in shock. "This is all your fault." She pointed towards Herne. "You leave my daddy alone." She jumped from the chunk of earth she was suspended on and landed in the soft sand of the lakeshore. Powerful legs fueled by nuclear turbines engaged, sending the Joyride Box unit into motion.

She swatted the hounds aside with relative ease and sprinted towards Herne.

"Samantha - look out!" Freelove shouted, but the warning came too late. Wrath leapt into her path, barring her way. The adamantine claws that had been grafted onto his fingertips cut deeply into the organic metal shell of the box unit, sending a shower of sparks flying.

Joyride teetered sideways from the impact, but powerful internal gyroscopic dynamos engaged to stabilize her momentum. Wrath was certainly fast, but Joyrides onboard diagnostics allowed her to block his further attacks and counter his every move. For a few moments they seemed at stalemate. Joyride's self-repair feature covered her wounds instantly and any damage she inflicted upon Wrath was handled by his own enhanced healing factor.

Given a fair fight and more experience, Joyride may have stood a chance at winning the battle. However the odds were never in her favor. A point blank discharge from a meson cannon ripped through the Box unit's chest. An energy backlash froze the mechanism's servos and, unable to keep its balance, it pitched forward and tumbled down into the ravine left by Scirocco's initial defensive move.

A demonic glee crawled across Lila Cheny's lips. The mutant teleporter had materialized the cannon from her cache of otherworldly weapons and then positioned herself to deliver the deadly blow. She snaked her tongue over her lips seductively as she turned and pointed the gun towards Freelove and Reaver.

Rage flooded over Chastity Wagner, drowning her lingering fear in a tsunami of fury. Her best friend had been apparently murdered right in front of her and she had been helpless to save her.

"Lleander. If you can hear me, do NOT open your eyes. No matter what!"

The floating island shook as a beam from the meson cannon eradicated a sizable chunk of the rock and earth beneath Freelove. She toppled slightly, but felt a familiar nudge brace against her. Lleander had come out of the trance of his premonition and was using his telekinesis to stabilize both Chastity and the hovering landmasses, which had begun sinking slowly towards the ground. The buildup of anti-gravitons generated by Scirocco had begun to dissipate.

Lila prepared another blast from the cannon, but the firing mechanism would not engage. The alien device began vibrating in her hand so violently that she had to let go of it. It was splintered into thousands of pieces by the time it finally impacted the ground. Lleander Neremani, Reaver, had excited the molecules of the cannon so much that they simply ripped their bonds apart at the seams.

"They've come for us. For you," Lleander said, suppressing a shiver as he recalled the horrors from his vision. Tears streamed down his face and there was a grief and rage in the young boy's eyes that startled the older girl. What had he seen?

"Do whatever you have to do Chase, or else everything will be lost." The boy pulled off his shirt and fashioned it into a makeshift blindfold. He reached out with the second sight of his telepathy to guide his actions from there. "No matter what, Chase, you don't pull any punches! Don't be scared to give them everything you've got!"

Bolstered by a renewed sense of determination, Freelove stood steadfast on her floating ball of earth. The facade of her illusion faded, the glamour of Spitfire dissolved leaving only the blue-skinned, elfin features of Chastity Grace Wagner.

At the ripe old age of thirteen, she was one of the earth's foremost illusion casters. Her mutant x-factor allowed her to bend a person's perception of reality to anything she chose. A secondary aspect of her powers allowed her to cast illusions of a person's deepest desire or their greatest fear. Their bloodlust would be such that they would either kill to obtain the object of their affection, or run in fear lest succumb to their phobia entirely. She would unleash her 'Succubus Effect' now and let the chips fall where they may.

Lila felt a sudden uncontrollable desire to be with her love, Sam Guthrie. He was currently involved in aerial combat with Scirocco, but that mattered not to her. In the blink of an eye she teleported to the heart of the battle and wrapped herself around Sam, bathing him in passionate kisses.

At first Cannonball was startled, but soon felt the passion envelop him completely. He forgot about all else save for Lila. His kinetic field dissolved and once his forward momentum ceased, the two began plummeting towards the earth. Unaffected by the Succubus Wave thanks to Lleander's mental shielding, Scirocco generated a sufficient updraft to settle the duo harmlessly to the ground, but just to hedge his bets, shocked them into unconsciousness with a mild lighting strike.

As the two lovers collapsed, Pup pulled himself from the depths of the lake, sloshing water onto the ground. He shook himself vigorously, dispelling the water in a high-rising torrent. He too became caught in the Succubus Effect. For ages he had admired Chastity from afar. As a boy he would use scrying crystals to watch her every move, enamored by everything about her. It was a schoolboy crush that haunted many of his prepubescent dreams.

The master had given him the singular honor of bringing her into the fold, making her one with the Horde, 'fetching' her to his side. But, seeing her now, Pup wanted to... needed to touch her, to shed his own facade of lycanthropy as she had shed her illusion of humanity.

Perhaps if she saw him as he truly was, she would come to love him as he had loved her from the first time he saw her. Pup never got the chance to transform. Several of the massive Hellhounds assailed him, sinking their razor sharp teeth into his flesh. The Succubus wave had mixed affects on the hounds. Some retreated in fear of the 'alpha male' of the pack, while a few, envious of Pup's position coveted the role as leader. They would rend him from limb to limb and then fight amongst themselves until the strongest, most dominant was left standing. Such was their heart's desire.

**********

Wrath always considered himself to be fearless, yet he found himself running for his life through the wooded environs of the Xavier estate. His heart pounded with such force that he felt sure it would burst through his chest. His adrenaline was spiking and he was engulfed by a case of fight or flight syndrome that he could not control. He looked over his shoulder for unseen demons - the object of his loathing and ironically enough, his reason for being - Wolverine.

Oblivious to where he was heading he cut through underbrush and trees at a brisk pace. He took one last glance over his shoulder before he slammed into what felt like a brick wall.

The impact sent him flying backwards, scrambling to regain his footing. His eyes widened in terror upon seeing what he had collided with.

"You!" he shouted. "You aren't real. You are just one of that witch's illusions. The master warned me about her and what she can do. I am going to enjoy cutting her into tiny little pieces."

"Ain't gonna happen, bub."

Adamantium claws slashed mercilessly at Wrath.

"For the record... I'm as real as it gets."

**********

Herne applauded the spectacle of violence, fear, and unrestrained lust projected by Freelove. He seemed enthralled by it all; feasting on every morsel of mayhem that had been unleashed while he himself remained unfazed by the Succubus Effect. The rapture of chaos was already his succor, and his belly was filled.

"Playtime is over, little one. The Master is waiting and you shall make a fitting vessel for his return." Effortlessly he bounded over the open expanse of earth and shot towards Freelove, who was oblivious to his approach.

Reaver, however, was more than aware of Herne's intent and locked onto him telepathically, immobilizing him in mid-leap. Even as Herne's massive form struggled against the boy's hold Lleander could feel the strain on his telepathy. The creature was immensely powerful.

In the distance, Wrath screamed before his voice trailed off into silence.

"Death isn't the end." Reaver spoke softly, yet with a commanding voice that belied his age. "I know what is coming. I have seen the future - far beyond what you can comprehend."

Then he felt it, a ripple on the edge of his thoughts, like the distant thunder of an approaching storm. Too soon, his visions were coming to pass.

"I can't shield you from what's coming, Uzuri." Reaver's thoughts brushed feather-light across Scirocco's mind. "You have to get to the safe house and stay there."

"What?" said Scirocco. "There's no way I'm leaving you two--"

"You have to. Something terrible is about to happen."

A door shut abruptly within Uzuri's consciousness and he suddenly felt himself being propelled away from the scene of battle.

"No! Lleander, we can stop it, whatever it is - whatever you saw."

"No..." the boy replied, his thoughts heavy with the unbearable weight of inevitability. "We can't. I'm sorry."

In moments Uzuri found himself hovering above the entrance to a secret tunnel that lead to the abandoned underground Morlock caverns. He fought against the invisible force that shoved him into the tunnel and sealed the entrance against his escape.

"REAVER!" he shouted, his voice echoing down the empty corridors. He slammed his fist against the metal grate but only succeeded in scraping his knuckles. He motioned towards the door, prepared to hurl a concentrated hurricane force wind directly at its hinges, but nothing happened. His powers failed him. Lleander had overridden them, shutting them off from use.

"The others will need you later. This is the only way."

Then it struck him. Fleeting images of Lleander's future sight collided with psychic impressions of events unraveling real-time. He saw his father, Charles Xavier, half a world away in Genosha, collapsing after his final battle with The Shadow King. For nearly a generation, the two had been mortal enemies and now their war had at long last reached its end. For a brief moment, Xavier embraced the victory, yet his heart grieved. He was so tired, so exhausted that even in his astral form, all he could do was curl up into fetal position.

"No," Lleander said. "Please get up." But the young boy knew it was no use.

One enemy defeated merely opened the door for another to take his place. The malevolence that called itself Samhain made its presence known at last, appearing without warning on the astral plane. Years of manipulations, countermoves, and Job-like patience were finally paying off. This was the day that the mighty Charles Xavier would fall and the world itself would tremble. With a triumphant cry, Samhain struck.

Lleander cast his gaze to the horizon, tears flowing down the boundless confines of dark eyes. "Goodbye, daddy. I love you."

In that moment, a great wave of psychic agony - the death knell of Charles Xavier - tore across the ether. Like being caught in a raging storm, Lleander was buffeted by his father's death cry as it shattered his mental defenses. The agony was unbearable and with a final cry of his own, the child mercifully lapsed into unconsciousness.

Even as Lleander fell victim to the mind-numbing shriek, many of the surrounding combatants were driven to their knees. Chastity pressed her palms to the side of her head, trying in vain to block out a noise that only existed in her mind. The banshee wail of Xavier's death, amplified momentarily by his son's anguish, smashed its way into her fragile psyche and her world went dark.

The ripple effect of the psi-shout continued outward, touching virtually every mind on the planet - even reaching into the depths of space itself.

Aboard the Imperial Throne Ship of the alien Shi'ar, Majestrix Lilandra Neramani - consort of Charles Xavier - collapsed at her command station. Her attendants rushed to her side, but the intense psychic rapport that the Majestrix shared with her beloved had already taken its toll on the alien queen. The feedback of the energy swell nearly consumed her, and though the contact had been fleeting, it was enough to place her in a vegetative state. As the officers aboard the Majestrix's ship scrambled to summon medical help, Lilandra's attendants could only look on in helpless confusion and horror.

Earthside, Scirocco collapsed within the confines of the Morlock antechamber, his mind reeling. Then, unseen by the Horde, he fell into unconsciousness with the others.

**********

Herne surveyed the spoils of war. Two of the final pieces of the puzzle were now his. As the horizon turned the color of old blood, Herne's confidence grew. The sky above cracked, splintering in spider-like veins that would herald in a new age. At last the sky gave way and shattered, revealing a dark and jagged wound that pierced the veil between worlds. Thousands of twisted, demonic figures dropped down from the sky, their descent guided by leathery wings as they rained down upon cities the world over.

The Horde's army was finally free to make manifest their masters' will on Earth.

"At last, it has begun." A voice echoed from behind him. Lord Beltane materialized and joined Herne by the lakeside. His robes billowed on the strong wind currents rushing in from all directions. Herne gave a nod of triumph and called his hounds to his side. Of the pack only Pup and two others survived. The rest had been ripped apart or died of fright.

"The endgame is at hand. Let us return to the fold and make way for the Master." Dark energies flowed from Beltane, undulating in ghostly fashion. Ebon tendrils snaked their way around Freelove and Reaver, lifting them gently from their prone positions. As quickly as he appeared, the dark lord transported himself and his trophies away. The rushing of wind stopped, followed by the deafening sound of silence. Perhaps it was a requiem for a planet about to die.

**********

"Richard! Oh, my dear Lord! Son..." Hank McCoy lifted his child from the cold, sterile Infirmary floor and placed him onto a Med-Table. Blood gushed from bite marks and gaping holes torn into the young doctor's flesh by Lord Beltane's demon hounds. Oblivious to his own substantial injuries, the elder McCoy frantically worked to stabilize his son's condition - activating a stasis field to help staunch the flow of blood.

Meanwhile, Valence and Dante struggled to regain their footing, having been hit full force by Xavier's death cry. As fleeting as the psi-scream had been, its impact had been enough to drive them both to their knees.

"Get out of the way! Let me through!" A voice graveled by advanced years droned past as an aged man dressed in blue silk and a red cape nudged his way into the infirmary. Valence vaguely recognized him, but before she could speak, he was through the doorway and on his way towards the two doctors.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" He cursed to himself. "Too late. I'm too late."

"Stephen!" Hank McCoy looked up in disbelief. "My son... he's... I have to save him." Hank had never felt more helpless in his life. He had faced death thousands of times, but seeing the ravaged body of his child unnerved him like nothing else before.

"Stand aside!" Doctor Stephen Strange was deadly earnest. "If you want your son to live, you will do as I ask." Once a noted physician, a bizarre twist of fate and a lifetime's journey had transformed the doctor from practitioner of the healing arts to Master of the Mystic arts. The question was which profession would he use now on Richard McCoy's behalf.

Stephen removed a leather pouch from the sash tied at his waist. He pulled open the leather cording and poured the contents, a single oversized ruby stone, into Richards's left hand and curled the man's fingers around the gem. Instantaneously, red light seeped from Richard McCoy's fist.

Like wildfire, the crimson light cascaded through Richard's body until he was ultimately bathed in an ethereal glow. Arc light crackled around him and he convulsed uncontrollably. He arched his back and tried to scream, but no sound came out. His muscles began to expanding, growing exponentially with each labored breath. Over the jackhammer pounding of his heart, he could hear voices, ancient and terrifying, blasting into his skull. "Whosoever touches this gem shall possess the power of the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. Henceforth, you who hear these words shall become forevermore a human juggernaut."

One final nova burst of energy bathed the room before fading to an ember whose glow in turn burnt itself out completely. In the afterglow, Hank McCoy stood dumbfounded; his jaw was slack from bewilderment and awe mingled with abject terror.

"Oh my stars and garters! Stephen - what have you done?"

"I saved the boy's life and bought us some leverage." The aged mystic seemed grim.

Richard coughed spasmodically before attempting to sit up on the medical bed. The structure groaned in protest over his newly acquired nine hundred pound mass.

"What's everybody staring at?" he asked as he swung his feet over the side of the bed.

"Oh, dear Lord, I'm naked." He gasped and pulled a sheet over his lap once he realized that his clothing had been rendered little more than shreds. "Oh, my stars... I'm a pink Hulk..."

"You can thank me later." The doctor cut a wry smile as he turned his gaze to the far side of the room. The amulet hanging at his chest opened to reveal what appeared to be disembodied eye. "As for you, young lady; you may drop your charade and join the rest of us." A bright light shone from the amulet causing the air to shimmer, giving a warped, funhouse mirror effect before solidifying into a hospital bed with Kismet, Transit and Blindside piled on top.

"How did you know?" Kismet asked, astonished that the mystic had seen through her glamour. Doctor Strange merely snorted and replied. "There are few things that can hide from the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto."

He turned to face the rest of his charges; a terrible sadness filled his eyes.

"Dark times have befallen us. A great enemy has arisen and what you have faced today is only a brief taste of what is to come." The Doctor brought a great sense of foreboding to the room. His grim countenance chilled the air, serving to underscore the evil that was spiraling towards them.

As Stephen continued to speak, the Eye of Agamotto projected images of events transpiring outside the confines of the Xavier Mansion. Demonic entities, foul and terrifying spilled from a breach in the heavens. Their intent was simple: destroy anything that moved, possess any human vessel that would submit, and create as much chaos as possible.

"We are safe for the moment. I have conjured a veil of protection surrounding the estate, but I am unsure how long it will hold. The enemy we face is strong and most cunning. If they sense our presence here, they will find a way inside."

At first no one moved. There was a hush that filled the Infirmary and in spite of a thousand questions zooming through everyone's mind, all seemed spellbound by the palpable urgency the Master of the Mystic Arts exuded.

"Now, make haste. Gather whatever stores you can - whatever cache you might find in your armory and bring them back here. I will explain everything to you then. We have much work to do, very far to travel and little time to get there." Stephen gestured elegantly as he spoke. Obediently, the remnant of Neo-X and assorted crew scattered; all save for Katya Rasputin who finally dared to speak.

"I don't mean any disrespect, Doc, but the first time we met you were a few bricks short of a load. I mean the light was on but nobody was home." Valence recalled the recent encounter in the realm of the Crimson Dawn where she, along with Psihawk and Transit first introduced to the good doctor along with the formerly missing Psylocke. It was there, that they had defended the Darkhold tomb from being stolen by the Horde. She had hoped that fending them off would have slowed the Horde down, but it seemed that at every turn since then, the team had been subject to cheap shots and hit and run tactics.

"You'll have to excuse me if I'm finding it a little hard to just fall in line because you pop in out of nowhere. I mean, why now? Why - when we've had our asses handed to us and the team has been scattered to the winds do you decide to finally show up? Couldn't you have made a little timelier arrival or does your 'all-seeing Eye' have selective vision?" She couldn't pinpoint its origin, but Valence suddenly found herself on the verge of a berserker rage.

Doctor Strange softened slightly, yet maintained his composure. "You have lost much, child. We all have. There is a war that has been brought to us and we must meet it head on. For your family's sake and those we cherish we must no quarter. My own beloved Clea has been pulled into the maelstrom of these wretched creatures and up until now I have been helpless to act."

The Eye of Agamotto cast a vision of a dark cavernous place. An odd-looking device spun gyroscopic cogs in opposing orbits; energy - primal and unrestrained poured from it. High above the mechanism, an amorphous blob of conjoined flesh - the melding of hundreds of singular individuals grafted into a single unit - fed the dervish whose ominous glow sent a chill rushing down Valence's spine.

The scene changed segueing into other parts of the cavern. Katya gasped as images of her parents, Shadowcat and Colossus appeared. A dark pall overshadowed them. Katya felt her heart sink with dread following the next vision.

"Nicola?"

A scowl lined her brother's face as did dried blood. Metallic wings fluttered as he soared low over the newly realized Siberian farmland. The golden wheat and other crops burned or were trampled by a legion of demonic foot soldiers. Nikola's arms had truncated into silver blades that ripped through the miniscule defensive forces of the Terraform Project.

Katya couldn't help weeping. Everything that her parents had worked for to create a better life for the masses was being snuffed out, and it was being done by her own crazed, possessed brother.

She wiped away her tears and looked at Stephen with a renewed determination.

"So, what happens next?" she asked

Stephen took the girl's hands into his own. "For starters, we pray to God that we have the strength and courage to do what must be done."

"And beyond that?" Katya pressed.

"We head to Wundagor Mountain. The time has come to take the battle directly to the heart of the enemy."

TO BE CONCLUDED...

Issue 48

Issue 50

"Hell on Earth" continues in Spitfire #36

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