Inside the old dark tower, the gray-hooded men kept up the ancient chant. Hour after hour they have been repeating the same five words: Stone, draw the stranger in. The stress of maintaining the required intensive concentration filled them with mind-numbing pain. But they could feel something, someone, a lone male, walking straight toward the ancient circle of stone. Feeling the presence, they raised the volume and speed of the chant. Any moment now and the prey would be inside the tall stone-ringed pit. They looked down in anticipation; this was their reward. They were gray men of great power; dark men in dark robes, the brotherhood of the Gray wizards.
