July 27, 2003
A Guardian's View
From my past, I have not grown much in the understanding of mana weaving, or the arcane rituals which were about to proceed. I have a feeling that even if I were a great mage, I still wouldn't have been able to comprehend the magnitude of what was now imminent.
I was the protector of the First caster, so my role during the actual ritual was small. A mere spectator at the time being, yet I had the best view of what was about to unfold. . .
The energies encompassing the area of casting began to stir, a feeling much like a light gust of wind at first. Not being blessed in the arts of mana, this was the first time I could feel the actual life essence of the land. The air began to stale, I looked about in anxiety, sensing something beyond what was intended was about to be dealt. I looked towards the caster I was assigned to protect, my eyes trained upon her nigh-hypnotic arcane weaving. Several times my body's muscles twitched, tempted to lunge myself forward in attempt to steal her away from the maw of this dark tempest she was helping create.
My footing faltered as the magic within the surrounding area began to speak as a deafening roar, and the once gentle swirl of mana now became as ferocious as a cyclone. With good fortune I was somewhat within the boundaries of the protective circle, which barely kept me from being swept to my doom. I made it through this violent conjuration of magic somehow. It was perhaps the duty I had sworn to uphold, to protect this gifted girl, yet with a glance towards the silhouette of Mt. Yarsin, a second guess could have been made that it was my seeking of ultimate vengeance which kept me alive through the unbridled mayhem.
In the end a blow against all life had been dealt. The remembrance of the roar is still vividly alive every night within my dreams. Perhaps in vengeance of the countless lost lives, the roar was a single collection of the souls that could only voice impotent protest.
Posted by ShadowSiege at July 27, 2003 10:47 PM