Spellwright. Blake Charlton
Shannon’s shoulder at the sentinel; she had quit her conversation and now stood studying them.
“It seems a malevolent construct has beset Trillinon,” Shannon said. “Fire and death now reign in the city. Part of Astrophell has burned and many of our Northern wizards have died because of this monstrous spell.”
“What kind of spell?”
“One we do not comprehend.” Shannon frowned. “The reports, they speak of—” Azure plucked a feather from her back, a sign of extreme anxiety. “Azure!” the grand wizard scolded even as he cast several soothing sentences to the bird.
“What do the reports speak of, Magister?”
“Of a massive construct that tore into the Neosolar Palace and set the city aflame. They say the spell took the shape…” Shannon shook his head as if already disbelieving the words he was about to utter. “The shape of a red dragon.”
“ARE YOU ALL right?” Shannon asked.
Pressing a hand to his mouth, Nicodemus answered faintly. “Magister, last night I dreamed I was a dragon attacking a city. I didn’t know which city…certainly it was a Northern city…”
Shannon coughed. “Nicodemus, your face is very pale. Have you gotten enough sleep?”
“No, but—”
“I see you’re exhausted, and this news has clearly given you a fright.”
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