The words of a spell flew across her tongue with a taste of ozone that left her body tingling. Her hands blazed with blue light and crackled with lightning. She stared down her mother but found only rage mixed with sorrow in Kaeless's eyes. Mere yards separated them. A column of fire exploded nearby as a Gargauthan ended his life on the blade of a thrown spear, casting fiery magic blindly with his last breath. The force knocked Morgynn and Kaeless to the ground. Though Morgynn fell only to her knees, Kaeless lay on her side, shoving the sizzling corpse of a fellow warrior off her legs and grasping madly for her mace. Morgynn jumped, landing on top of her mother and wrapping her sparking hands around Kaeless's throat. The magic burned and popped as she squeezed the shaking body of her parent, driving the lightning through Kaeless. A blow from Morgynn's right released her hold and sent her rolling away in pain. A Sedras warrior had come to save their tribal leader and high priestess. His sword had bit deeply into her shoulder, exposing the bone. She felt a chill radiate from the wound.
She shook her head to clear the haze of pain, but the world spun before her eyes. Dimly she saw Kaeless regain her footing and lift the bright mace. Acting on reflex, Morgynn cast another spell, hurling a ball of fire. Weary with vertigo, she stumbled and the fiery sphere missed, exploding against the cavern wall behind her mother. Morgynn fell backward to the ground, screaming as her weight bore against her flayed right shoulder. Silhouetted in flame, Kaeless approached her daughter and raised her weapon high. Morgynn spat the blood from her mouth and called yet another spell. Shouting the words, she felt the Weave respond. At the edge of its release, the spell evaporated and darkness overcame her. Raising a hand to her cheek, she felt something wet. Her blurry eyes showed the world turned on end, her face pressed to the ground and pain throbbing in the side of her head. Her neck went limp and something pushed against her throat from within. She tried to move, to see her mother's fallen body, to witness the victory of her allies. She could see figures still fighting in the distance, but could not hear them over the pounding in her ears. Magic still hovered at the edge of her mind, tugging at her attention, demanding to be worked. Silently her lips moved, trying to comply with the instinct to complete the spell. The only sound that triumphed over her failing senses was her mother's voice. "Forgive me." She felt a dull impact then succumbed to darkness.
Morgynn awoke with a start. Lying on the divan, she stared at the ancient text of a Theskan wizard she'd slain when he'd commanded her hand in marriage. She smiled at the memory, still picturing his body swinging from a post outside his home as she and the Order abandoned yet another realm to find a more fertile foothold on the continent.
The smile did not last long, shadowed by the torment of old dreams.
Her stomach rumbled with much dreaded hunger. She had loathed food for years, only playing at its enjoyment while dining with powerful contacts and would-be suitors. Almost all sustenance tasted like ash and dirt in her mouth, save for strong elf wine and dwarven spirits-drinks she tended to consume in large quantities when available. She turned her head to stare at her pack containing dried meat and fresh water. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of eating, which helped to quell the pangs in her stomach. There would be time enough for eating later, she thought. Waving her hand, the Theskan tome slammed shut and flew to the floor. Lifting another from beneath the divan, she caressed its red leather cover lovingly, carefully setting it upon the footstool in front of her. A haze of power surrounded the book like a web of thickened air, a threatening mirage of wards. "Suth vas bethed," she whispered and ran a finger down its spine, disarming her seal upon its secrets. This was the only book remaining from Goorgian's arcane library. Only half completed when she'd found it, now her own handwriting filled the remainder of its pages. Rumors hinted that several more tomes existed, stolen by looters and brave souls seeking quick profits. She had traced many of them to the possession of the Durthan witches of Erech Forest, just east of Goorgian's fallen stronghold in Narfell, but for now, the one would do. She found the old wizard-priest to be insightful and imaginative, but his ideas were sometimes full of a madness born of his extended contact with creatures from the Lower Planes. Having traveled so long with the Gargauthans, Morgynn was quite aware of the dangers and pitfalls of favors and contracts with creatures of the Lower Planes. Opening the cover, she turned to the book's center, where Goorgian's writing ended and hers began. His tight and obsessive script gave way to her flowing and hypnotic handwriting, a transition from one wizard's spells to the next, similar in theme and idea but vastly different in method and execution. At the whisper of a cantrip, the brazier flared back to life, lighting the words on the open pages and reviving the scent of cinnamon around her. Adjusting her mind to an intense focus and awareness of the Weave, a state of concentration bordering on a trance, she devoured the text with her eyes. The study of magic was a different experience for her than for most wizards.
Memorized spells merely filled the minds of other wizards, burning themselves in memory. For Morgynn, the words entered her eyes, settled in her mind, and were carried away in the space of a heartbeat to burn themselves throughout her body. Each spell she cast thereafter left her colder and wanting more. Morgynn held vigil with the book until she no longer knew whether it was day or night. Raising her eyes from the final page, the arcane words swam in her vision. She stood and replaced the seal upon the book, then reluctantly reached for the pack of food. She grasped something hard and dry, not caring what it was, but made certain to take a bottle of wine. She walked to the window with the meager meal, warmth flowing in her veins as she contentedly gazed outside and forced herself to eat. The field of stone below was illuminated in brief flashes of lightning as the Gargauthans still set to their task. Several summoning circles had been drawn to facilitate the Gargauthans' spells. A contingent of gnolls, no doubt survivors from Mahgra's failed attempt on Targris, loped in from the forest and met with Khaemil. She ate sparingly and drank freely until the bottle was emptied and tossed aside. Half the stale bread still lay in her hand, its tasteless remainder sitting like lead in her stomach. The empty bottle of Derluskan wine lay shattered on the floor at her feet.
Its taste did little to erase the dryness in her mouth and had reduced her hunger only slightly. Her mind felt full and satisfied with the peaceful calm of magic that flowed through her blood and rested at her fingertips. She threw the bread among the bones beneath the window and walked back to the cushioned divan, unable to resist further rest.
Sitting down, she stared into the glowing coals in the brazier, focusing on their light. Though she wanted to be prepared for the coming battle, she considered sleep a necessary evil, tolerated but unwanted. "Wasted time," she murmured. She wondered at her own words.
Did they describe sleep, or her youth? Past and present were interchangeable at times, and she'd often feared waking up face down on the stone floor of the courtyard in Goorgian's pit. She scoffed at her foolishness and knew that worse fears lingered in the cloudy mists of her memory. When she awoke next, the Order of Twilight would move against Brookhollow and the Oracles of the Hidden Circle. As she lay on the long couch, she imagined their faces as she strode into their sacred ground, as her minions took apart their defenses and brought low the primary obstacle against her ambitions. Flames licked at the walls of their temple as she drifted to sleep. Her waking thoughts faded as she slumbered, giving way to incessant memory. Marble walls became rough stone and peace became chaos.