Dragonworld: The Will For Power

Part 18: Magic Reborn

Magic reborn

A dark figure was standing on the podium. In long, wide robes, a large hood covering his head, only his eyes could be seen. Wide, piercing eyes, with a yellowish glow.

"Welcome acolytes," the figure said.

Below, all eyes were on him. Given all the candles and torches all around, the air was smoky. A strange scent pervaded the atmosphere of the gathering.

On one side, you had figures dressed in large, wide-flowing brown robes. The men. On the other, you had figures in tight black dresses, and long black skirts. The women.

There was total silence, which was only penetrated by the occasional dripping of water in the background. And the voice on the stage.

"We are here to change everything," the figure continued. "Long ago, magic slowly disappeared from the world. It seeped away, together with the gods. No more of that. We are here to bring it back."

A slow murmur rose up from the crowd.

"It will not be easy. However, we are the beneficiaries of a long tradition. Of mages and sorcerers, and of witches, who have worked for centuries to gather magic. To discover what was lost," the hooded figure on the podium put an emphasis on the last phrase.

He raised his right hand.

"We are at the cusp of a major change. Soon, we will be able to control the force of lightning itself. Soon, we will be able to rain fire on our enemies. While so far we have been serving the rulers, not long from now, they will be serving us!" He raised both his hands.

The crowd started clapping. With a wave of his hand, the figure silenced them.

"Magic will soon be back. We will make sure of it," shouted the man on stage.

He then proceeded to pull down his hood, revealing a worn, pale face. His piercing, glowing yellow eyes seemed as if illuminated, being the most prominent feature of the man.

Among the crowd, in the back, one man stared intently at the figure on stage. He had recognized him. Despite him trying to keep his identity secret, he knew who he was.

He could never forget those piercing, yellow eyes staring from under the hood. He had seen them before. At the palace.

He even recalled his name. While before he didn't know what his goal was, now he knew.

Dault Sindieous. That's how the figure on stage had presented himself.

The man in the crowd had underestimated the danger. He wouldn't make that mistake again. 

"Keep watching the night," the man in the back whispered, quiet enough so no one around him could overhear.

--

Practice and theory 

Taufus Lanse lounged casually at the table, surrounded by the diverse crew of the expedition's planning committee. The echoes of their strategic discourse lingered, dissipating into the air like the last strains of a song. The transition to discussing more commonplace matters flowed seamlessly.

Thalankit Thukut, the Tikanmul native entrusted with the logistics, raised his wine-filled chalice in a genial salute.

"Cheers everyone! Cheers," he proclaimed, a lighthearted toast resonating through the room.

"Cheers," was the cry from the others.

Thukut sat down, and continued the conversation.

"Danus, so you are a trader? You have spent considerable time in the north?" Thukut looked in the direction of Danus Dakel, one of the newer recruits for the expedition.