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Tufts of wispy clouds extended across the lucid skyline, painting the blue canvas with splotches of white. The two suns of Telath, poised at their zeniths, gazed gently upon the awakening city with beams of golden light. These brilliant rays, seemingly unexhausted from their solar sources, illuminated the foundations of a number of rooftop-less buildings and occasionally reflected off glass windows to glisten like a thousand diamond rings. It was a beautiful summer brightening by all accounts, and certainly not telltale of the horrendous events to come. The sound of seagulls soon pervaded the air, rising in pitch as the birds descended inches above the sea to the north, snatching fish whenever their thin and narrow beaks were in range.
It was peaceful.
From their vantage points, neither Shei’yein nor Cein would be challenged to transcend to the Astral Plane. Clara came expectedly easily amidst the tranquility of their undisturbed location, but whether or not this passivity would last, only the two members of the Ars Sanctorium knew for sure. Unfortunately, though, they would find little useful information yielding from the results of their spell. Much like if their spirits were detaching from their bodies and floating skywards, Astral Transcendence elevated them hundreds of feet into the air, providing a bird’s eye view of the surrounding landscape and the thousands of sentient creatures dotting the city below.
Mostly dwarves were awake at this time of the brightening, scurrying out of their makeshift homes and returning to the countless construction sites dispersed throughout the city. None of these exhibited a trace of magical power, for the battle-hardened Zerdargians seldom resorted to the arcane when their burly hands and backs were generally more than enough to hammer their opponents into the earth. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that Zerdargia fell to the whims of a powerful necromancer, but such an issue was subject to debate. There were many humans amidst the amalgamation of citizens as well, filing down the neatly cleared streets towards the sea where they refilled buckets of water or delivered their creations to various storefronts and stalls.
Strangely, to the west and outside of the city gates, a mountain of rubble emitted a peculiar aura of magical energy. Higher than the Paxian woodland’s tallest tree, something within the immense compilation of wreckage pulsated with the arcane, calling out to the astute mystic’s senses like a blaring horn. It was no further than half a mile to the site, but it would involve departing from the city through its currently wall-less perimeter to arrive there.
But that was not all that would rivet the mystic’s awareness. To the north and housed within one of the many great ships docked in the Paxian Harbor, there was another significant concentration of magical energy. A number of workers were crossing back and forth from the dock to the ship, transferring loads of supplies and occasionally wiping their sweaty brows. The area was heavily guarded, though, and more so than the other dozen schooners and vessels unloading in the vicinity. For whatever reason, however, was yet to be uncovered. Nevertheless, should either mage choose to embark towards the area, they would need to travel northward through the city and towards the docks.
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