He is in his study, finishing the final pieces of the sword which will bind the dread necromancer with whom he has been in conflict for coming on three centuries. He delicately sets the ruby that is the focal point of his spell into its socket.
And then he is elsewhere.
Rolling hills stretch away from him in every direction, covered with softly waving grasses. In the distance, red mountains ...
She comes running over the crest of the hill, puffing hard. "Summoned hero! Thank goodness you've arrived. The demon lord ..."
She trails off, seeing the grasslands empty of any summoned heroes.
"Fuck."
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