Witch Wandita hurled the Book of Mythology across the dungeon.
“Bah,” she cursed. “Gods? Wizards? Hairy toed Hobbits? Witches should rule the worlds. Without our cunning and intellect, they’re nothing. Nothing.”
She shuffled across the stone floor, reached for her potions bible and flicked through the tattered pages.
“Ah,” she exclaimed. She jabbed her bony finger at a potion then collected bottles from a shelf and poured the contents into a large cauldron. As she sniffed the sulphuric fumes, she checked the ingredients list.
“The key to the universe.” She plucked a brass key from her cloak pocket and dropped it into the bubbling concoction.
“A drop of blood from Snow White’s dear mother.” She cackled manically and tossed the vial into the brew.
She ripped a cord from her neck and rolled a ring between her fingers. “Oh, so precious.” She dropped the ring into the liquid. It sizzled, melted and turned the mixture fire red.
Wandita cackled again.
“A stone to call the ghosts of the dead. The hide of Aslan stirred in with a trident.” She yanked a rug from under her feet and swirled it through the potion with the golden prongs.
“And now. The final ingredient.” She hobbled across the dungeon and stopped at a locked wooden door. “A pinch of knowledge from the universe. Then one sip and I shall be ruler of all the worlds.” She cackled then reached into her cloak pocket.
“Drat,” she muttered. “Now where did I put that key?”