Royals went to bed, uptight nobles left the palace - Kairon found himself the highest authority in this grand hall, and he used it to fuel his darkest addiction. Maybe he was drunk, maybe he should follow natural order and go to sleep so deep in the night, but regardless - he made a mistake. Caught in a thoughtless promise, Archmage Kairon must uphold his word and let the Lich, bound for ages below the hall’s ceiling, participate in a grand competition with a prize of one wish, granted by the promisor. Under the shadow of Lich’s escape, will the (alive) contest participants be able to tell a story better than the ageless pile of bones?