Jan 2, 2025
Should he coax gold out of the gleaming pyrite, wheedle a flame from the wilting cinder? Feed the muted desire mottled by the deepest confines of her mind? She is a mirror of her own limitations, a flightless bird, bound and blighted, marred by her unchanging fate. Still, the Maia feels her slipping each time he reaches out. There is power there yet — brazen and untouched — which is hardly something he can sense in others.
He smiles.
" You are improving, Wilin. " The din dies out, the fetters of the forge proving to be an effective buffer to the outside world. And the mirage spreads, only his footsteps breaking the unnatural lull.
" Have you kept to your practice in my absence? " @m0rlain