Like magic Methnik’s sword passed through that of his foes….All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through skin and muscle. Methnik crumpled to his knees, then to the floor, his eyes greyed over and he heard faint words, maybe those of his foe? "Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn"
‘To the victor goes the spoils’ it is said but what if those spoils are not what they seem. What if those items of victory, are deadly.
You find a book in the library, then when you start to read it, seems to change from pages of words to pages of images that seem to live and move. If you touch the page after the images appear, you travel into the story and now live in that world.
There is a book on that world, that leads back to this one.