by Sky King
After eight hundred years of searching for the champion, madness descended. Pastiche screamed and waved his sword at the trees of the last ancient forest, yelling the name of the enchanter who cursed him to find the champion. Could it be the old police chief? The estranged son? The abused daughter? As thick branches creaked in the wind, mad laughter tore the sky: "Curse you, Mydrrin!"