[Shei'yein Neydremi]

They were an odd pair indeed. The guise of the human that the elf wore seemed to hang in mid-air, suspended by nothing. In truth, his form was carried by billowing wings of arcane energy; they stretched out behind him for meters, crackling and snapping to and fro, lapping up the ara circulating in the air. Like himself, they too were covered in wards and sigils at the moment, making detection difficult for the greatest magi, and impossible for everyone else. He peered out at the world below from sunken human eyes, hollowed and darkened, prematurely aged from a lifetime of study. His normally smooth, chiseled features were gone, replaced by the wind worn visage of a man. The green robes he wore hung loosely as his wings synchronized with his mind, obeying his every command, blanketing both Cein and himself in an aura of Liberation. The custom spell increased their latent abilities in every aspect – speed, strength, arcane awareness, thought – and also rendered a non-detection matrix over the two.

They had come to this place to find a magi – one of the nine he’d need to ascend to the status of archmage. The mages of the empire, after all, would not be readily willing to promote one such as himself, and though his illusions were great, a mage was far too vulnerable during promotion to risk his deceptions failing. Instead, he had travelled the realms, searching for strength, and making it his. It was that purpose that had brought him to this place here today.

His goal would soon be attained. The city of Narim lay in ruin; the city of Vortex, in chaos. The elf had gained power from each one. Entire armies had bent to his will. In truth, the fae’s presence that brightening was not needed for the immediate task. Instead, it was a test; a training exercise, of sorts. An academy could only teach so much. The elf needed those who followed him to be strong, able to react in any situation, and to react effectively. This brightening, he would aim to satiate both of these purposes – the growth of his own power, and that of his young protégé.

“We have our orders,” the elf replied brusquely. As far as the fairy knew, he was simply another member of Ars Sanctorum, sent by the Mastermind that was himself.

“Retrieve a master of any sphere, prioritizing thaumaturgy and elementalism. Take advantage of the lack of organization in this city while it's rebuilding, augmenting the chaos if necessary. Escape, and eliminate all pursuers.” Reciting the orders that they had received to the fae, the elf released several of his feathers into the astral, sending them through Astral Transcendence to seek out the sources of arcane strength in the city with master-level prowess or greater, and report back to him.

“When the arcane battle starts, it’s going to be noisy in the astral plane. We’re definitely going to get some attention. I’ll need a distraction from you to make sure that the powers that be don’t come down onto us immediately – that’s up to your own discretion.”