‘The Seer wages a war to the south.’ Brood’s head snapped up. ‘Aye,’ Crone nodded. ‘My children have seen Domin armies, routed and retreating north. To Outlook itself. The Seer has unleashed formidable sorceries against the unknown enemy. Rivers of ice, walls of ice. Blistering cold, winds and storms – it has been a long time since we have witnessed said particular warren unveiled.’ ‘Omtose Phellack. The warren of the Jaghut.’
