The world of witches had long since been divided in two.

The Pointed Caps upheld the laws established since the Day of the Pact, forbidding all magic deemed dangerous to mankind.

And then there were the Brimmed Caps, rogue witches, few in number, yet feared far beyond their ranks. For they wielded forbidden magic without restraint.

Among them stood Iguin.

He was known by many names: the Lidless One, the Eye of the World, and countless others.

At the edge of a forest overlooking a quiet atelier, he stood motionless beneath the shifting wind. The foliage rustled softly around him, stirring the tassels of cap and mask, as well as the his cloak.

“How long I wonder,” he murmured, his voice low and unsettling, “can this ruse be maintained…”