The floating citadel of the Ivory Tower was entirely silent. Suspended miles above the earth by ancient, self-sustaining levitation runes, the grand marble structure usually gleamed with a brilliant, divine light.
Tonight, however, it was dark.
Inside the Grand Council Chamber, the Supreme Magus slumped in his chair, his breathing shallow and labored. The fifty elder sages who had helped him cast the Grand Sealing Ritual lay unconscious on the cold marble floor, their life force severely depleted.
The Supreme Magus looked out the massive stained-glass windows at the ash-grey sky. He smiled, a weak, trembling curve of his dry lips.
"It is done," he wheezed to the empty room. "The leylines are severed. The world is plunged into darkness. Without the ambient mana to power her filthy machines, the false Queen's factories will freeze and rust. The Ivory Tower has saved the sanctity of magic."
He closed his eyes, preparing to rest and regain his strength.
