In the dimly lit chamber hidden beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the Dark Council's stronghold, a figure clad in shadows stood before a shimmering pool of enchanted water. The surface rippled faintly, casting ethereal reflections on the stone walls adorned with ancient glyphs and sigils.
The figure, obscured by a hooded cloak that concealed their features, raised a hand over the pool, fingers splayed in a gesture of concentration. The water shimmered, responding to unseen forces as if attuned to the figure's will.
"Twins of prophecy," the figure murmured, their voice a low, melodic whisper that reverberated through the chamber. "Bound by fate, yet unaware of their true potential."
As the words echoed in the chamber, images began to form on the surface of the enchanted pool—a collag
