Sir, B'yaright?- A boy, around the age of ten, spoke. He held the hand of a smaller boy, who was staring at him with wide eyed wander.

Richard looked at him a moment, and managed a grunt in reply. Shaky, old limbs rattled as he lifted himself off the dirty ground, glancing about and truly taking in his surroundings. It was definetely Britain, but not the Britain he knew. The release of his energy when the druid Engval cast that trickery on him had apparently not killed him, as he suspected. Instead, it had opened a hole in reality and he had slipped through it! An interesting theory. He reached for a book, only to find it torn, like the rest of him.

By now, most people were moving on and returning to there earlier buisness. A new world, and he was alive. A new start. The question was; who held the power in this world. He would gather the neccesary components for a scrying spell, and he would move on from there. But it was neccesary for different tactics this time; he didnt have the patience to raise an army. Suddenly, wind coursed through the street, and he knew it was the perfect world. There was a great mana node; strong enough for him to immerse himself in. Strong enough for him to reach his goal. The old wizard chuckled, looking to the north, and could already see the faint outline of power. He would devour the malice of the city, then he would walk north.

A new world, a new shadow.