~When Death's Wings Take Flight~ (Amber)

[Amber Brightwing]

She flew back up and looked down upon the effects of a successful spell. If the dark arts needed either a strong or a twisted mind, she would surely thrive well, because she possessed both. ‘Twisted’ was of course a purely objective word as in her own mind she was perfectly sane. For the first time in her life she felt how it was to be on the side that was handing out other peoples misery instead of being the one that was victimized… and she loved it. Even before she had started her necromancy training she had decided for herself that she would be following the path of death and destruction opposed to what was expected from her. If she was to be mocked and looked down upon by her own kind, she could just as well give them a decent reason to do so.

The feeling of success made a very broad smile appear on her face. Inherent abilities or not, flying around with the spell before casting had proven to be very mentally straining and she could already feel the vis drain after only two spells. Therefore it came to her as a great relief that she had actually succeeded in casting this spell. Still, she was a little unsatisfied that she hadn’t succeeded in actually killing her victim. Not that she wished him death or so, but Aribeal had said the poison was a deadly one, so it felt as if she had failed to execute the spell to it’s fullest potential. After hearing his praise however she understood that it was only the limiting power of the initiate that held back the real potency of her spell and her smile only grew as the praise of her master satisfied her immensely.

Necromancy seemed to embody almost everything a faerie was supposed to be standing against. Acid Sphere and Venomous Touch both had only pain and death as only purpose with a complete disregard for other people. Drain Life took it even a step further: healing yourself by taking the life of others. Any other faerie would probably be infuriated by even thinking such things were possible, and that was a good thing in her eyes. Too bad the lesson would be over after this spell, because she was really starting to enjoy this.

As soon he had asked her hold out her hand she did so. Looking at the metal pin it took her a few moments before she linked it to the words useful for if you find yourself needing to heal yourself and she realized what was most likely about to happen. The mer really was a ‘show, don’t tell’ person. Not only he had provided her with a real living target for better practice, but apparently he didn’t even bother much about hurting his own apprentice if it would aid him in getting his point across. At least if the pin was going to be used for what she expected.

[Minerva]

Aribeal looked pleased as the fae automatically held out her hand to him when told to do so. Even though he had not informed her of what was to come, he had entertained the notion of her hesitating, of not being so sure of his plans or intent. The mer was hardly known for his good graces or loving nature, after all, his black heart impervious to the sentiments associated with such. A smile still worn across his face in the form of a slight and sinister arc, the necromancer lifted the metal pin towards where Amber’s palm was positioned, before drawing it back down in what was a precise and meticulously calculated manner.

There was no forewarning, no cautionary precursor to warn the young female of what was to happen next. All there was were the suspicions already held within her mind, and the knowledge that her tutor preferred to do things on a more practical basis rather than simply talk everything through. Bringing the tip of the metal pin to rest steadily atop Amber’s palm, the precision with which Aribeal directed his movements could easily have described as admirable, had one so chosen to bother considering such things. Applying a small amount of pressure, and blood was drawn, the initial pinprick then being brought to widen as Aribeal methodically drew the point across her palm, creating a line going horizontally across the width of it. There, however, he stopped, thankfully able to contain himself and his love of torturing things as he then drew his hand, and thusly the pin, away.

“As you grow more powerful, so will you be able to sap more of the life force from your prey. As an initiate, however, you are restricted to only being able to heal smaller injuries and hurts.”

Perhaps not as fun as being to drain mass amounts of life from one’s target, but enjoyable nevertheless. “Go then, Amber- make use of the spell I have taught you and heal yourself.”

He said no more on the matter then, instead waiting for his student to do as she was told, and to try out her newest spell.

[Amber Brightwing]

Even as she saw what she had feared confirmed, she didn’t back away her hand. She wanted to, but resisted the urge as she didn’t want to appear weak and cowardly towards the master. It wasn’t the pain she was most afraid of though. When possible, she avoided pain like any other sane being, but considering her choice of arcana she supposed that it was going to be inevitable. A necessary evil so to say.

What she really feared is that the mer would be too brutal and cut of her whole hand by mistake. An accident could easily happen, especially when trying to do something as meticulous as making a small cut in a very small hand. If she would have been able to choose, she would have preferred to make the cut herself. Aribeal turned out to have the precision of a surgeon though and her fears appeared to be gratuitous. As he made a small incision in her hand, she couldn’t help to make a face for a second as the pain hit her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever hurt herself, but had been long ago and she had never experience anything worse than some scratches and bruises. The inflicted wound stung, but she found it to be acceptable. Now that she thought about it, it was even less annoying than that burning sensation you got when you scraped off some skin.

Not bothering with flying back to the table, she simply landed on the humans head. He was out cold, so it wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it. As she started moving into clara again she found it to be much harder then before. Even while she had little trouble with tuning out the material world, the throbbing of the cut in her hand took quite a while to tune out. Once it she got past that however, things went the same as before again. Ara and vis were mixed and death was channelled into it. It all seemed to be going somewhat easier than her first time. There was still much room for improvement of course, but she felt she was starting to get the hang of this mana creating.

As she casted the spell into the material plane she did much the same as she had done with the venomous touch, only the other way around. A crude hook of magic was thrown at her victims life reserves and with little regard to the damage inflicted as she reeled in her catch, hoping it would be enough to heal her hand.

[Minerva]

Amber was right in assuming the human would not care for the fact that she wanted to use his head as a temporary perch. Still out cold and totally oblivious to what it was she was doing, Aryn merely continued to do as the conscious man did- to lie still, slumped against the obliging support of the wall behind him, mouth slack as the mind was too distant to control it. Weakened as she was through the draining of her vis, the little fae nevertheless managed to attain the composed state of clara, and from there begin the manufacturing of her new spell.

Manipulating the threads of ara and vis was becoming more and more second-nature with each attempt that the faery made, and the virtual reversal of the spell of Venomous Touch would not be so difficult a task to carry out. Instead of injecting something into the body of her victim, she would be taking something out. The man’s lifeforce, the dredges of what vivacity lay dormant within him…she would steal it for her own, use it to heal the precise incision on her hand.

The effects of the spell were hard to discern through use of the eyes alone. What did occur, however, was something that the young fae would be able to feel. A warmth, a shifting of energy from without to within…whatever it was that she happened to experience, it would be sure enough sign that the spell was working, or at least doing something. Where feelings alone failed, however, she would soon be able to see the results firsthand should she choose to look down upon her palm. The split skin was now coming together, the actions of her teacher being undone before her very eyes before vanishing entirely. All that remained was a spot of blood, a smudge of crimson; a lingering proof of what had once been done, but was now gone. Even the stinging pain that had once been there had subsided now.

Aribeal stepped forwards upon completion of the spell, took one look at his young ward’s hand, and smiled. “Good. Three spells I have taught you today, and three times you have succeeded. A commendable start to your training, Amber.”

The praise was genuine, the mer’s pride in his student almost heartfelt as he spoke the words out loud. She was doing well, and as such deserved to be informed about it. There was, however, always the chance that she could slip up, that she might displease him, and Aribeal did not seem the type to think twice about punishing his students for their transgressions. For now, however, the fae had nothing to fear- she had had a good day, had learnt well, and would hopefully have the same luck when their next lesson came to pass.

“For today, we are finished, and you no longer have the strength to cast. Tomorrow you will return at the same time, and we shall continue. There are four more spells that I am able to teach you…tomorrow you will learn two, with the remaining two the next day. Now, however, you are free to go. Rest in the front room if it is needed- I will finish up with ‘business’ here…”

He had dismissed her verbally, and now he was doing so mentally as well. What ‘business’ Aribeal had left to carry out with his incarcerated companion he did not say, and nor would he begin until Amber had left, leaving them both in beautiful, baleful peace.

OOC: Please post your arrival the next day so we can continue with the lesson.

[Amber Brightwing]

A warm and pleasant feeling entering her body, her wound healing and the pain dissolving. Upon closer inspection she couldn’t even see a scar on her hand. It was not something she had expected necromancy could do, but then again it did make sense. After all, those meddling with death and destruction generally had a much bigger chance on something turning back on them and some self healing could prove very useful in such a case. Of course she hoped she would never have to use the spell in the first place - for healing purposes that is. With her tender build even a single swap from a hand could have very nasty consequences. On the other hand, it seemed like a very fun spell to ‘practice’ her casting with. She liked the nice and fuzzy gave.

Thank you for your compliments master Aribeal.

Of course she could still slip up, but she would make sure that chances on that were as low as she could get them. She hadn’t felt as good as today in a very long time and she didn’t feel like abandoning that feeling. She had set her first successful steps on her way towards power and - eventually - revenge and the praise of the mer had also been greatly uplifting. It was good to know to you did your job well, but it was great to have someone with great power and skill standing by the sidelines and praise you for it. Tonight she would certainly be sleeping well and having pleasant dreams.

Until tomorrow then. I will make sure I’m well rested and ready to continue.

With that she flew out the door and left. She felt no need to rest in the front room, so she just left the . The last spell had mentally drained her, but physically she still felt pretty well. She would have little trouble getting back home.

***

The next day she returned, well on time and eager to continue. Only seven spells in total to learn, only three to use each day and only a limited amount of power provided by each. It wasn’t that much, but then again it was only the beginning. And with the good start she had yesterday, she could only hope it would continue the same way.

The vysstichi behind the counter of the White Night’s Drink simply nodded to her as she entered the tavern and indicated she was free to enter the caverns below. While descending the ill illuminated stairs she could feel her excitement coming up again. As she reached the bottom she was greeted by the same lightborn elf as the day before, and just as unfriendly, but it hardly effected her good mood.

Serale, I’ve come to continue my lessons with master Aribeal.

[Minerva]

The elf was just as friendly and helpful as Amber remembered him being which, quite frankly, was nothing to write home about. Still, on this occasion he had apparently chosen to forego any ventures of an arrogant or unwelcome sort in favour of simply allowing the fae to pass through unhindered. He had not the time, nor the will to spare her any time, and as such deemed this to be the best way to go about things. Wordlessly gesturing for her to go ahead and find her own way, Amber would soon find herself stood within the familiar surroundings of Master Aribeal’s classroom once more. There, she would see her master stood besides one of his bookcases, one palm laden with a thick tome whilst the fingers of his free hand flicked through it on intermittent occasions. Upon seeing Amber, however, the book was closed, his attentions diverted as his mind prepared itself for the dealings of the day.

“Serale, Amber. I trust you are well and ready to begin?”

Upon hearing her answer, should it come, the mer would return his book to its position within the ranks of his shelves, prior to addressing his student once again. His scaled countenance had now taken on an apologetic look, a somewhat dismayed one in the light of what it was he intended to say.

“Unfortunately the spells we shall be learning in this lesson- the spells of Convoke Shadows and Blindness- are not directly intended to cause pain like the ones we studied yesterday. Still, I am certain they will prove to be most interesting nevertheless.”

He managed a smile there, the necromancer’s intrinsically sinister nature shining darkly through once more. “In order to aid your learning of them, we shall be taking our lesson outside of this room. Firstly, however, I want you to demonstrate your knowledge of what I have taught you so far to me. Cast an Acidic Orb. After that, we shall go outside and I shall impart to you the information necessary to make use of two more spells.”

There he stopped, and waited. He had no doubt as to Amber’s upcoming success with the spell he had asked her to cast; she had done it before, after all, and was very likely to do so once again. Similar too was his confidence in the fact that she would be able to get a handle on the two new spells he had for her today on her first attempts. She was turning out to be quite the skilled arcanist, after all, although whether or not that was down to the nature of her race was currently a mystery to the mer. Something to dwell on at another time, however, for now he merely gave himself over to watching his young student, and anticipating the success that was to come with relish.

[Amber Brightwing]

The gesture was all she needed. After what he had been saying yesterday it was hardly a loss to society if he kept his mouth shut now and then. Since she hadn’t been told otherwise, she figured that she would find the mer in the same place she had received lessons yesterday. When she got there in the class room he was already waiting there for her, reading in one of the books to pass the time until she arrived- at least so she assumed.

Serale master Aribeal, I’m ready and eager to continue.

Convoke Shadows and Blindness. The second one was fairly easy to guess what it could be, but the first one was rather vague. Oh well, she would learn soon enough. She didn’t see why it was unfortunate that the spells wouldn’t cause pain though. Surely, causing death and pain were what she had expected most spells would be about, but some variation was never a bad thing. She rather had some alternatives then just knowing how to kill in a dozen different ways. Not that knowing how to kill in a dozen different ways was a bad thing, but if it was all you knew it limited your options. The healing power of the Drain Life spell for example had been a pleasant surprise.

After landing on the table again, she started descending into the realms of magic for the fourth time today - she hadn’t been able to resist practicing her meditation earlier in the day. Running through the same steps as the day before, she attempted to cast her second Acid Sphere. She had indeed been very successful so far, and although her heritage certainly gave her a head start compared to humans (and probably elves as well), it wasn’t everything. She hadn’t heard of a fae yet that had been completely unable to learn the arcana arts, but she knew there were some that had to go through great lengths in order to even reach the initiate level. Therefore she planned to do the best she could, and to take her time to do it right rather than to rush things and have a bigger chance on failing. Aside from the fact that failure would be personally a step backwards, it didn’t seem like such a healthy thing to do around master Aribeal.

[Minerva]

All that practice Amber had allowed herself to indulge in earlier on in the brightening had apparently not been in vain as she found herself achieving a state of meditation far quicker than she had done the previous day. As far as the spell itself went, the boon of familiarity enabled the fae to be able to cast it without so much as a hitch rearing up in turn. A blessing of her heritage, perhaps? Or maybe it was simply down to raw, unfettered skill. Who knew? The most likely case, however, was that it was something of a combination of both.

Witnessing his student’s success through mainly unsurprised eyes, Aribeal smiled winsomely for but a moment, before allowing that charming gesture to pass beneath a veil of restrained malice and solemnity once more. When he spoke, it was in his usually polite and eloquent tone of voice; an articulation of each syllable combined with a subtle drawing-out of each word giving form to a timbre that was both noble and sinister in manifestation.

“That is good, Amber. Now dispel it and follow me.”

Without giving his ward much time to do exactly that, the necromancer made to leave the room, the crimson folds of his robe undulating in an ominous procession behind him as he did so. Keeping up a relatively brisk pace as he led the way into the overly spacious corridor outside, there was an gracefulness to the merman’s walk that seemed almost unusual for one so dark of character. Still, that was but a trivial matter, a point of relative unimportance in comparison for the sight which was to follow.

Warnings came in the form of sounds; loud sounds, issuing forth from the end of the corridor, and the passageway from whence access to the tavern above could be achieved. Angry cries and shouts of rage and frustration, it seemed clear enough what the cause of this ruckus happened to be, even without being able to see the event in question firsthand. A fight of some description, and between two men as well, judging from the gruff tones in which the shoutings were issued forth. Indeed, soon Amber would be able to see for herself what occurrences had deigned to conspire up ahead; a dark elf, incensed, and apparently trying to rip the very eyes out of Spirotyn’s head.

“Interesting, and yet so very, very convenient.” were the only words that Aribeal uttered in retort, even as he brought his paces to slow and cease altogether in reaction to it all.

“I am not too fond of Spirotyn myself, but then I suppose it is our duty to aid fellow members of the school when needed.” His tone was mocking now as he continued to watch the pair brawl, an amused look adorning his face as he did so. Apparently the lightborn elf had gone one step too far in being ‘accommodating’ to his dark-skinned cousin- a mistake that had earned him nothing but pain in return.

“On any other day I would leave the fool be- if he is not strong enough to defend himself on his own, than I don’t see the point in wasting my own time on him. In this case, however, this provides us with the perfect opportunity to try out another spell.”

Still smiling, the necromancer then turned his gaze to Amber in readiness to explain the next of her spells. “Now, Blindness does exactly as the name suggests. Calling forth a cloud of darkness to attack your target’s sense of sight, you can effectively render them unable to see. It does not last for long, however, although its duration will become greater as your proficiency increases within this sphere.”

The description should have been enough for her to go on- it had been in the past, and the mer had no wish to baby his student with step-by-step instructions now. Instead, he cut off there, giving Amber a few moments within which to voice any related questions or concerns she had regarding the spell itself. After that, he made to speak once more, his tone colloquial as he turned the focus of his attentions back unto the unruly fight up taking place up ahead.

“Now, I would like you to try casting the spell upon the dark elf over there. It is not a contact spell, so you should be able to do it from here.”

[Amber Brightwing]

For the second time she succeeded in making an Acid Sphere, but as before she was left in the dark as to how effective they actually were. Oh well, she’d find out eventually. For now, practicing the spells was more important than actually playing with them. Descending into clara again, she took her time to tear the are and vis apart and dispel the sizzling orb in front of her. No need to rush things and end up screwing up.

Although she was achieving the state meditation far quicker than the day before, it still took her several minutes to get there. By the time she was finished dispelling, the mer had already disappeared. She quickly took off and flew through the door as well, trying to catch up with the master as fast as she could. When she arrived in the corridor it wasn’t long before she heard the shouts and primal grunts echoing thought the hallway. She wasn’t too familiar with fights, but it didn’t take her long to figure out that a that was exactly what was going on.

When she actually saw who was caught up in the brawl, she couldn’t help but chuckle. The way he treated people, this didn’t surprise her too much. If you were stupid enough to badmouth everyone you met, acting superior and all just because you knew a bit of arcana, it was only a matter of time before someone put you in you place. She could somewhat understand if you wanted to pick on those you deemed weaker, but from what she had seen he’d been either daft or ignorant when it came to judging peoples power.

It seemed Aribeal had the same opinion on Spirotyn and his like. Perhaps it was his duty to aid fellow members, but he didn’t seem to be that enthusiastic to aid those that got into a mess out of their own damn fault. It was not sure if he would be that eager to help them otherwise of course, but maybe he would be somewhat less cruel in his aid.

Not only the master didn’t seem to be in any hurry, he also chose to let his pupil help out the poor light born. That would mean the master necromancer was going to be standing idle for several minutes before their would be some actual help, which might even be a miscast. So far her spells had gone very well, but that didn’t mean it would always be like that. She was still only learning after all. But for the elf, a miscast might even be less painful than a successful one - mentally that was. After all, he, the great mage, was about to be relieved from his misery by a lowly initiate. If anything, the mer certainly had a good sense of irony. She chuckled again at Spirotyn’s misfortune before she started slipping into clara.

This time she chose shadow to channel into her mix of vis and ara. After moulding the resulting mana into a magical blindfold, she pulled her spell into existence as she dropped out of clara, and casted it on the dark elf. Her attempt was to use the shadow to remove all light from his eyes and thus rendering him blind. She wasn’t 100% sure it would work as she hoped though - given the spell would be a successful cast - because the vysstichi were said to be able to see in complete darkness.

[Minerva]

Amber’s technique was sound, her methods for creating this newest of spells adequate enough for another success, of sorts. She was right in believing that vysstichi’s could see well in the dark- much better than they could in the fullness of light, at least- but nevertheless that did not stop the faery’s attempts from having something of an effect regardless. As the shroud of shadows impeded his sight, so did the vysstichi freeze up, stunned for a moment as circumstances suddenly decided to take a turn for the strange. The blow he had been directing against Spirotyn missed its mark by a wide shot, hampered as the man’s aim was by the fact he could no longer see as well. The adjustment of his eyes from light to dark did not take the vysstichi long, however, and soon he had recovered himself enough to continue with the battering of the hapless light elf.

“Good, Amber. And now to put an end to all this nonsense.”

Closing his eyes for but a few seconds as he went about the necessary steps required to achieve a state of meditation, and then one of clara, the necromancer then set to casting a spell which resulted in something strange happening. All about the form of the vysstichi, the air seemed to become distorted, blackening and drawing on a manifestation of coldness and death as it did so. The Spirit Shackle forming about the elf worked to a tee, trapping his soul in place and thus causing his body to become nothing but a useless shell, a husk without a driving force to move it. Frozen in place, the vysstichi truly was a peculiar sight, what with the fixed angry scowl on his face, and the blow on the verge of forming falling flat. Whilst not a spell acquired at the level of Master, it was nonetheless good enough to get the job done, and to ensure that the dark elf was rendered sufficiently inept.

Spirotyn, still stunned and overwhelmed from all that had taken place, merely continued to lie in his place on the floor, ungainly and inelegant as he watched his beaten assailant through wide and incredulous eyes. His torpor was contrasted heavily with Aribeal’s gracefully composed posture and poise as the mer deigned to approach, looking down upon the elf with a noticeable degree of contempt and only the slightest of sneers. There was no love shared between them, that was clear, with any doubts relating to that very fact being erased with the first of the necromancer’s words.

“Spirotyn.” Short, sharp, and disdainful, the three syllables could have been spat out on a wave of raw and intense hatred to the same general effect. “I see you still have some work to do on those manners of yours. Now get up.”

The elf said nothing, but instead chose to merely obey. This was a Master of necromancy who was giving him the order, after all, and protesting now would have been futile, not to mention foolish and outright deadly. Once he was stood more or less securely on both of his feet, Spirotyn would then find himself being reprimanded by the mer once again, who now spoke in a manner suggestion an irk-wrought weariness, a distaste for having to spend his time committed to such pitiful points of tedium as this.

“You might be a mage in this school, and you may think yourself to be better than most, but remember that there is a reason why we set you to merely guarding the front door. Now…”

Turning back to face Amber, the mage hastily replaced his disapproving look with a smile, prior to speaking once again.

“A change of plan. Fate has seen it fit to provide us with an adequate test subject here today, and it would be such a shame to waste it. So then, the next spell I will teach you is that of Impotence. In essence, the spell weakens your opponent, whilst simultaneously adding their strength to your own. We should have interesting results here considering your heritage.” The mer mused over that point for but a moment, before presumably dismissed any notions that had been conjured up in favour of continuing his explanations. “The spell works by surrounding your target in a swathe of weakening forces; these act as siphons to draw their strength away from then, and instead giving it to you. As with most spells, the effects are temporary, and won’t be as strong until you have become more skilful as a mage.”

Idly, Aribeal wondered how far the fae was willing to go. There was not much doubt about her mastering all the spells available at this easiest Initiate level, but what then after that? Apprentice? Journeyman? Would she even possess the drive and motivation to become a Master of this art one day? Whatever the answer happened to be, musings of the nature now were pretty much irrelevant, and useless when it came to lessons of a more practical kind.

“Cast it on the vysstichi. I would let you try the spell on this wretch here, but I have plans for him myself.”

The mer was not one who tolerated who tolerated ineptitude or incompetence; that much he had shown before, and that much he would likely show again. What was clearer now, however, was the fact that the necromancer would apparently also jump at any chance he could get to torture and to test techniques out on those unfortunate enough to have failed in his presence. Another lesson to Amber to take everything she learned to heart, and to do the best she could in order to ensure she would not be on the receiving end of any punishments anytime soon.

[Amber Brightwing]

From the missed beat, Amber could see that her spell had some effect. A very minimal effect though, since the vysstichi’s fists were quickly landing on their mark again. It was good to know that it could be used on dark elves as well, but that didn’t mean she was happy with the outcome. It would need some extra work in order to get it right. She figured that if she could blind him for only a split second, then it must be possible to do so for a longer time as well. Next time she casted it, she would try and perfect the spell.

A shiver ran through her spine and the hairs on her arms erected themselves as she felt the spirit shackle being cast. She didn’t know what spell it was, but judging by the power behind it was obviously not one she’d learn any time soon. And it wasn’t just the power behind the spell that she admired, but his casting time. The mer only had to close his eyes for mere seconds before he could bring his necromantic creations into the world. Although she didn’t have to close her eyes, reaching clara took an eternity compared to her master.

She couldn’t have wiped the smirk of her face even if she tried. She might be a nobody inside these walls, and if she was even considered to be a part of the school, she would be found at the very bottom of the hierarchy. That didn’t make the light elf being put on his place less satisfying though. He deserved what he had coming. She doubted that he would suddenly become that much friendlier, but perhaps he would be less denigrating when she arrived tomorrow. It would be a start.

She looked at the motionless dark elf. The mer’s spell had apparently as effect that it rendered the target immobile for a certain amount of time. That gave her a very convenient target for what would be her last spell of the day: motionless for easy casting, yet still alive and well to find how successful her spell had been.

From Aribeal’s description, Impotence sounded a lot like drain life. The difference seemed to be that instead of the life force, the strength was targeted and instead of a one-time effect, it was a spell that lasted for a short while, after which the effects disappeared. After forming an idea on how to cast it, she descended into clara again and for the third time this day she mixed vis and ara together, channelling death into it to form manna. As she constructed her spell, she worked much like she had done with drain life. However, where before she had created something that took a single bite out of her victims life force, she now attempted to create some sort of aura that would let her leech of his strength.

If the mer had been able to look into her mind, he would have gotten a short answer to his unasked questions. How far was she going to will? All the way. Initiate, apprentice, journeyman, master and archmage. That was of course only how she currently felt about it. Things could always change and there was no telling what the future would bring. For a long time she had wanted to be a druid and look were she was now. She felt great about her chosen path, better than she had ever felt, but that didn’t guarantee anything. She could still lose interest, she could reach the limits of her capabilities, she could die,… All of these things might stop her on her way or guide her towards another path. For all she knew she might not even get to initiate.

But as said before, none of these possibilities troubled her mind at the moment. Now she was just focussed becoming better at the art of death. Even so being an archmage, master or even a journeyman was not of her concern. It was a good thing to have something large to work towards, but you needed several smaller steps to get there. Her first step up the ladder would be to become an initiate, and she would need to succeed in that before she could even think of anything else. And to become an initiate, she would need a well casted spell. Feeling happy with her construction, she casted her Impotence spell and awaited the effects.

She had already noticed yesterday that failure was not an option for the mer. She found it unlikely the master would punish her if she ****ed up once or twice, mostly since she was only learning after all, but that didn’t mean she had any intention at all to test her theory on the subject. Not only she would be very disappointed herself if she failed, but from what she had seen, she could very well be wrong and she didn’t want to be at the receiving end when Aribeal displayed his skills.

[Minerva]

Amber’s attempt was successful, having carried over her knowledge from the Drain Life spell and adapted it to be used in companionship with this one. Slowly, steadily, and but a trickle at first, she would begin to feel a newfound strength flowing through her veins. An alien thing that was not hers, she would notice the dark elf appear to weaken in comparison; a subtle thing which was hard to tell for all his lack of movement. She felt stronger, more filled with vigour…even though it was not a monumental change, it was still noticeable, and sure enough sign of the fact that her spell had worked.

Aribeal, content with his student’s efforts, nodded towards her with nought but a grim sort of smile in recognition of her success, prior to speaking in an equally glassy tone of voice.

“Alright then. You have used up enough vis for this brightening, Amber. Return to me tomorrow and I will teach you the remaining two spells you will need to learn as an Initiate.”

And with that, she was dismissed, free to leave via the stairwell lying just beyond where they all gathered now. One passing glance at the disparaged Spirotyn would reveal something of an odd mix of emotions painted across his features now. Bitterness was there unrivalled, yes, but then it always had been. Now, however, it was joined by the much more fickle sentiments of fear and what appeared to be jealousy. Raw, unfettered envy about the fact that the fae was able to leave now, whilst he was charged to remain, and to endure a fate all but unknown to him besides the fact that it would be severe.

Indeed, as the faery made to take her leave of them and depart from the gloomy underground school, she would be able to make out Aribeal’s last words even as they were spoken. Concise, succinct, and painfully laced with purest candour, the veiled threat carried behind them was all but palpable in form, and would not take a genius to figure it out in the slightest.

“As for you…” The level voice intoned, trailing off as the crux of his point made itself known within what was only a very short span of time. There would be no other words, and there was nothing left to be said as Aribeal proceeded to do whatever it was he intended for the luckless light elf.

The next day, when Amber returned, she would find Spirotyn to be just as aloof and reticent as ever, if but a tad less passionately. She would also, if she cared to study his arrogant features for long, notice a couple more new marks nestled in the midst of those other tattoos adorning his face. Lacerations burnt to black at their ends, one appeared to extend from the top of Spirotyn’s left cheek right down to the base of his neck and beyond. Upon seeing the fae approach, he would sneer and physically back away, apparently not wanting to be too close to her. Allowing her to pass with nothing more than a grunt in acknowledgment, it appeared that he had no wish to tarry long in her presence, either.

Aribeal would be found within the sanctity of his room, unsurprisingly, languishing in the cool wet haven of his pool when the faery deigned to enter. At this point he would look up to her with a smile in greeting, prior to enquiring how she was. Once she had answered this, then their lessons would begin in earnest once again…the duration of how long today’s lesson would be, however, was likely to be very short indeed. She only had the two spells left to learn, after all, and what with her visible prowess in the art thus far, it was unlikely that either of those would end up presenting her with too much of a challenge.