The Shadow Weaver smiled as he surveyed the scene. He was in an ordinary house, in the town of Henesys.

The house had been annihilated.

Citizens were running around in circles, panicking or hiding in the tall grass. The police were nowhere to be seen. The mages charged with the defense of the town were in Ellinia, having milk and cookies. Men in bright red rubber suits ran around carrying buckets of water to the location of the house, even though there was no fire.

The Shadow Weaver shuddered as he was hit by another bucket of water. “They can’t see me. How fortunate for them.”

The Shadow Weaver grinned, as he waved his hands in an intricate pattern. The air around him slowly grew warmer and warmer…

A massive circle of glyphs suddenly appeared and began rotating. The firemen continued their water runs for a few minutes, then finally noticed the glyphs and started screaming in terror, and running in squares.

The circle rotated, faster and faster, until suddenly…

The area around the now non-existant house was consumed by a massive explosion, which would have been on par with an atomic bomb – if they had been invented yet.

But the Shadow Weaver was gone.

The Keeper sighed again as the Shadow Weaver’s spell annihilated a part of Henesys. More sighs would come, as she was worried about the fate of the Maplers. She was worried about the health of the Great Tree, which seemed to be dwindling of late.

She was also worried about the fact that the Shadow Weaver stood a few metres in front of her.

Back in Henesys, an innocent traveler could find the ground marked by many perfectly-circle shaped holes. And if they looked down, they would see citizens still running around inside them. They would see citizens digging the holes ever deeper in terror even though the danger had passed.

Grendel the Really Old shuddered as he peered into his scrying pool and observed the destruction of the house. He knew that variety of magic, and he knew how to defeat it.

But what troubled him the most, was that he did not know what cast the magic.

A mage caught unprepared was a dead mage.

The Shadowlord Crull roared with frustration as he lined up another mighty slash of his scythe. His opponent would be dead. He swung…

But Isador was not there.

Crull gasped with pain as Isador’s rapier jabbed him in the back again.

“Crull, you really must improve your reflexes…”

“Farseer, our forces are ready to fight. We wish only for your command.”

“Very well. Deploy a strike force to the Webway. The Shadow Weaver MUST be destroyed.”

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