Пролог

The funeral songs were singing on the witches’s valley called Avlassor. A hot fire was burning, and the tomb made of a black tree on the heavy chains. The top of the tomb was transparent, and the corpse could be seen. It was the body of young beautiful witch about 128 years old. She was pale, her hair were long and black. Her name was Tilusha, as it was written on the label on one side.
There was a big round of witches of all ages. They were singing the funeral songs:

You left us… You left…
Your soul is far, not here,
But for us you’re always near,
The ground will be your bed!

At last, the tomb let down and flamed. He was firening about half an hour.
After this, the eldest witch came forward and said:
- Our sister is dead. She was killed by our worst enemy – Vilorra!
A soft noise.
- We won’t leave it! We’ll take vengeance! That’s what I’ve said, your Queen!
- Long live the Queen! – cried all witches and left the valley.