Her figure far less gaunt than it was weeks prior, Idella was dressed in the fur-lined robes suited for Westguard. Cobblestone and permafrost walls surrounded her as she worked deep in the dungeon deeps of the stone keep. Pinching the wick between her fingers, Idella lit a single candle and set it on the floor. It completed a runic circle, nine lighted candles in all, an intricate pattern of runes connecting them. A smooth yet featureless stone occupied the center, glowing faint purple in color.
Sucking in a slow intake of breath, Idella quickly studied her work. Gone was her telltale hesitation or nervousness, replaced by assured hands. Holding her hand above the stone, the young witch closed her eyes and concentrated. The rune activated immediately, lighting the room with an eerie green glow. The candles flickered from orange to green, their flames licking higher and higher till they bent inward, drawing together into the palm of her hand. Clenching her fist, Idella’s eyes flashed open, their dark tint reflecting the glow about them. Her gaze drew downward as she guided the spell into the stone, the green flames filling the stone fully till it was the only light source left in the room. Then it too flickered out, leaving the room in sudden darkness.
A few moments later, a strike of a match lit a fresh candle, casting a warm light on Idella as she carefully inspected the stone, pocketed it, then knelt and touched the rune on the floor. At her touch, its lines receded, erasing themselves until no sight of it was left. One by one, she retrieved the melted candles, pocketing them into a satchel and slung them over her shoulder. Pulling up her hood, she withdrew from the keep depths into the chilled outside air. There she took a gryphon with two words to the flightmaster: “South, please.”
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