The Western Continent, land of villains.
The Lake of Avalon.
Suspended in midair over the center of the lake was a floating mage tower, its whole body built from ancient dark-blue stone. Sheer, gauzy drapes hung from every window of the tower, their trailing ends dipping into the water, like countless tiny waterfalls pouring straight down.
On the balcony at the top of the tower, a bearded old man sat in a rocking chair, lazily peering down at the crystal ball in his arms with half-lidded eyes, the very picture of a retired cadre on Earth killing time in...
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