Shifting Sands

Divination Tower
Dead of night


Unearthly pale blue eyes stared unseeingly into the face of the full moon. A raven fluttered wildly about the tower chamber, croaking and screeching and knocking things to the floor. Magus was raising such a racket that had anyone lived in that section of the castle, they would have surely been waken.

The woman at the open window paid him no heed.

She wore a long dressing gown over a knee-length nightie. Her feet were bare, long hair loose about her shoulders. She muttered under her breath, repeating the same phrase over and over in an ancient tongue. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, palms facing forward. Magic hung thick in the air with such intensity that the very stones of the room seemed to vibrate. The woman's voice rose in volume and pitch, approaching a climax until--

Everything stopped.

For a moment, there was not a single sound to be heard in the chamber. The raven had come to a halt atop one of the desks, a glittering black eye fixed upon the form of his mistress. It was not his mistress, though.

The woman turned, cold gaze settling upon the bird. She lifted a hand. Magus immediately took the air and darted out the far window into the night.

"Foolish spirit," the woman scoffed. Her gaze caught on her reflection and a smug smirk pulled at her lips. "Do not regard me so reprovingly, lass. Everythin' is in good hands, now. All thanks tae ye, my perfect vessel. All thanks tae ye."