The Profession of the Arcane


This too shall pass.

Astarlane and Tenever landed at full war pace, both of them exercising years of practice to avoid slaughtering everyone around them. Sheer willpower straining against the force of adrenalin and killing instinct, Astarlane had scant moments to wonder at Tenever.

Still filled with the absorbed energy of the golem's strike, Tenever was nova-bright to her arcane senses - so much so that she felt inner lids close to avoid being blinded. She knew that, for all the power she wielded, she would never be able to taste the heights of power to which he stretched every day. For all that magic suffused their lives in ways mere men would never know, they were still worlds apart.

With a sigh, Tenever opened eyes that faded from a beatific golden glow to his normal green-grey irises. There was a silent blossom of power that radiated out from him, and for a short period of time the world was a better place. Colours were brighter, muscles relaxed, and the weight of pain was but a dull ache in Astarlane's mind.


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