He slipped the peculiar key into his purple robe. He pulled out its contents: a small metal object with four corkscrew crosspieces. The figure lifted the seat of the throne to expose a compartment underneath. The snakes recoiled, deserting the throne, hissing furiously in protest.
A hand emerged from the sleeve-pure glowing white-piercing the darkness. They lashed out with their forked tongues as the figure in the purple robe raised up one draped arm. More writhing snakes carpeted the seat of the throne, their green, iridescent scales gleaming in the firelight.
Behind the throne was a wall of fire, the flames illuminating the agonized faces embedded in the sculpture, making them seem alive. It had the shape of a crude tree made of entwined human forms, scrawny legs and arms twisted in bizarre contortions. The figure paused before the throne-a huge sculpture made of greenish iron. Snakes slithered out of his path, thousands of snakes that littered the floor, hissing and rattling their tails. Ī small figure, clothed in deep purple, skimmed silently across the floor of the vast room. *Editor’s Note: The following is a chapter excerpt from Priscilla Shirer’s new book, The Prince Warriors and the Unseen Invasion.
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