For some reason, I was always sure that I would meet death in a rocking chair, sitting on the veranda of my own house and drinking twelve-year-old Chivas. It didn’t work out. The bastards whose plans I once ruined were able to find me and sent me into oblivion. Only instead of a black void, I found myself in another world, similar to ours, but for some reason magic is very much in use here. In Greek Crete. In the body of a poet who didn’t hold anything heavier than a guitar in his hands. Well, okay, I’ll find use for my skills here too! In addition, the boy seems to have some abilities for this very magic. Wait a minute! What does "the last of the destroyed clan" mean? No attack spells? You've all gone crazy here!