The black moon hung above the world like a promise of extinction, its gravitational pull already beginning to tear fragments from the highest towers of the gleaming capital below.
In the face of such overwhelming power, silence had settled over the defenders like a shroud… the silence of acceptance, the terrible quiet that preceded either surrender or final defiance!
At the apex of the kingdom's tallest tower, a tower of emerald crystal that rose like a needle toward the threatening sky, the world's strongest defenders had gathered in what might be their final council.
They floated on implements that hummed with barely contained energy…brooms that blazed with stellar fire, staffs that crackled with captured lightning, wands that pulsed with the heartbeats of dying stars!
Among them, a witch whose robes shimmered with constellation patterns turned her gaze from the looming catastrophe above to the figure beside her.
