((Blackwood House for Widows and Orphans, Warfall))

He thanked Rose for the room before he turned back to the interior. It was a quaint room, with bed, table, and stand. Severos set his bag down, hearing Rose continue with Horo outside.

The order she spoke of definitely had his attention, for he remembered something from his college days. Yet, it was escaping him. With a sigh, he sat upon the floor with his legs crossed. He dug into his bag for his spellbook and two others. "My book..." He muttered. "Cults of Aeran... Anointed Annuad..."

He stopped, pulling out a half burnt book. The pages felt brittle and covered in ash as he opened it.

...e too much for.... Continuous strain to maintain a spell...

He closed it, his eyes as well. How much was lost, he did not know. But the knowledge was gone, a thought that saddened the young mage to no end. Why tyrants of power wanted to squander such gains by destroying it, he could never understand. Knowledge was power, every wielder of magic knew that.


He turned, staring at the door. Perhaps he had imagined a noise.


He stood at once, the book landing cover down with a thud. "Magicae deprehendere," he spoke quietly . His vision switched to the veil of the Weave. He could see the power of the pendant even here, still in Horo's grasp. He felt a numbing sense as he gazed in the general direction of the hall. Wards made him avert his eyes, but he saw the dark tendrils woven tightly together with a strong will. With all of this, nothing called out to his attention.

He blinked, unsure what startled him. He decided to check the windows, swiping his finger across the pane with the words "Territo." A faint blue streamed from his finger, fading as it touched the tapping pane. Lightning flashed, alighting the grounds. He peered closer, thinking he saw someone dash out of sight. The lightning was gone before he could tell.

"Hmm," he grunted. Severos decided to sit down again. If there would be trouble, he would hear it soon. And so he cleared his mind, much in preparation of anything as well as for this Orla pendant.

He knew his Abjuration knowledge was good, but something like this was beyond his experience. He knew he could possibly wiggle some strands of Weave loose, but how could he do it without more power? He was nearly a master of Transmutation, not Abjuration!

He would have to make the spell, something that was best left to actual masters. Spellcrafting was as old as magic itself, but had fallen out of practice in favor of pre-worded phrases. He thought long and hard on it.


"Horo?" Severos called. "Rose?"

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