A wizard has a dreadful premonition about fire, death and despair. But will he able to prevent it, since no one believes him?
Far in the northern lands, in a valley embraced by mountains, which hid various dangers and were said to hold mysterious creatures, lay an old castle. Peace was not long since established within the castle walls. Yet, the people looked relieved, happy even, preoccupied with their daily task, since there was much to be done, in order to repair the damage that war has brought upon their home.
In the farthest corner of the castle, almost ruined, yet somehow still in one piece, a grey tower rose towards the sky. In it lived an old man, alone and isolated from all other living forms - a wizard for whom it is said that knew the ways of seeing the future, but was blinded by his gift, and driven to insanity.
The impact his staff made with the wooden floor echoed across the room, as he patrolled from one end of it to the other, clearly bothered. He knew something wasn't right. Furthermore, he could feel it, deep down within his bones. It was that dreadful sensation, and the thought of something terrifying happening to the castle again, that gave him no rest. He had a strange ritual of arguing with himself, every time he was in a certain dilemma; And now, he was doing just that.
I know this feeling, I've felt it before. Nothing good can come of it... Nothing good. But still, I have to do something. No one else has a clue about what's happening.
He took off the hood, and with a slow motion of his shaky hand, moved the long strings of silver from his face. His weary eyes were focused on the center of the room. There stood an old wooden table, and beside it, a chair made out of same type of wood. A black, silky fabric, embedded with hundreds of tiny stars, was covering the items of the table. The dust on it was smothering the stars' glow, indicating that the items underneath were not used for a very long time.