20th Day of Spring
514 AV
514 AV
His room was no splendid thing. It was not extraordinary, nor grand, nor even elegant in the least. In fact it was rather unremarkable all things considered. Just large enough that he felt somewhat gratified to be given what was clearly the best broom closet they had, yet just small enough that the walls would constantly feel as if they were smothering him from every side. It was certainly a unique hell, and he hated that room for forcing him to endure it. Being there just meant he had too much time to think, and by think, he meant decide. He had come back to Ravok for one reason, and one reason alone. Five days later however, he was still just twiddling his thumbs, undecided and unsure on what needed to be done. He had seen his father all but one time since arriving, and not once had Elias willed himself the courage and fortitude to make his move. It was frustrating and maddening and cruel. He hated this room.
He hated not knowing what he was going to do.
It was late and Leth was looming glumly over the sky above, his pale radiance showering the lake below in an glorious blanket of midnight light. Elias had been waiting for the darkness, for the cover of shadow and the silence of the moon. He would need a certain modicum of secrecy for the task he had assigned himself that night, and felt it only prudent he restrict his displays of blatant magic use to emergencies only. Less likelihood of getting mobbed and lynched that way he decided. The young mage sat hunched over the single table the apartment possessed, staring down at the sheet of parchment before him. He’d attempted what he was about to attempt a number of times before, and each time had ended in less than thrilling results. The use of glyphs to create an arcane scroll, something that could record and store magical effects, was something Elias had strove to achieve since seeing his very first one. The man himself was hardly a master of the art, but by then, he knew his glyphs from his sigils and all things in between well enough to be considered... well not great, but maybe at least not a danger to himself? It was a start.
Ever learning, ever reaching, that was the key to success in the world of the arcane.
He rubbed his rough and itchy chin as dark eyes scanned the parchment. He decided he had to shave again soon, that, and just what he wanted his sigils to look like as well. The young man dipped his tiny brush in the ink and started on the focus, the most basic of the glyphs used in the alphabet of ancients. He made certain both his movements and every stroke were careful and controlled, his face twisting into a mask of concentration as his brush bled the ink onto the parchment. The focus took the shape of a swirling vortex, almost like a whirlpool if it possessed defined boundaries. He was obviously taking his time and being painfully careful in the overall process, perhaps more so than ever before. This scroll, why it may have been the first he ever made all by himself, was going to be incredibly important considering who and what it was meant for.
With the focus completed within a few chimes, he began next on his barrier. He dipped his brush once more and set to business drawing the protective lines, his weapon of choice that day teasing at the parchment as it moved ever so carefully. His barriers took the shape of a pair of curving lines that appeared to twist and twine around each other, coiling together as they formed a wreath ring of sorts around the focus. Glyphs looked different for each wizard and Elias had always known this, yet never had he felt comfortable manifesting his own. Today was the day he tried, and so far, his whirlpool, vine thing wasn't looking half bad if he had to say so. At least it wasn't giving off a vibe of ill potent anyway, which may as well have been a thumbs up from any instructor if you thought about it. Elias chose not to.
Glyphing was not an overly dangerous art, instead it was just perhaps the most highly stressful discipline of magic Elias had ever even encountered. Mistakes, even the smallest most minute of things could not be afforded in the creation process. Elias endeavored to not make a single one that night. He had at least two more of these things to go, he couldn't allow himself to be hamstrung by the intricacies of just one.
He had to be better that. He had to become better than that.