Welcome to Kingdoms of Evil

Sheets of rain poured down, while thunder rolled like the sea overhead. The lightning, striking now to either side of the road, cast insane, incandescent shapes through the screen. Flash, and jagged rock gleamed wetly under stone rings, immense and howling in the tempest.
Flash, and the living cushion around Feerborg was moving, rearing up in flabby waves toward the roof of the carriage. Flash, Feerborg's mouth yawned in a silent scream. His eyes were open; ink-black orbits bisected by lines of white fire, as bright and deadly as the lightning outside. The Ultimate Fiend rose from his seat, as the dark energy of his nation poured into him, mouth open in a scream. If only Bloodbyrn could hear it, but flash, and her hands were up, warding her eyes. The carriage rocked, and she fell against the screen.
There was ringing silence, and then, as Bloodbyrn's auditory powers returned to her, she heard the crunch of stones, the carriage's shrieking, and her lord's gasping.
"My lord?" she asked, cautious, not daring to hope.
"Where…am I?" Had her lord's voice taken on the harmonics of thunder, the cadences of necromancy?
"My lord Feerborg," she breathed to him across the space of the carriage, "welcome to the Kingdoms of Evil."

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Done while listening to: The name of the Wind (ugh)
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