The Coven was abuzz. Never before had the Dark Lord proclaimed that He would put a child in a witch’s womb. All knew that one day the Dark Lord would desire an heir. For every young witch knew the story that was told at their mother’s knee. The Dark Lord would one day take a bride, her Aunt Lindsay had told her. Mortals told their children that their daughters would meet a prince and fall in love. Witches would lay with the Morningstar Himself and perhaps even become His bride. As eternal as He was, the war between Him and the false god was evermore. One day, their Lord would need a son to battle His angelic brothers. And every witchling wanted to be the one to bare Him.