Malikus could feel the minute change in the way the wind blew, bringing the scent of Chaos on the winds of magic. Her spine shivered with the energy, the thought of heresy. And if rumors were anything close to truth, this magus, this Izobella was a change in the way the wind blew.
She opened her eyes finally. Malikus had lost herself in dark elf meditation, an art that grew easier to her by the year. But despite her discipline, Malikus couldn’t shake the shred of teaching Izobella was rumored to teach: “The gods of the dark elf are no more special than the gods of the Empire, for both want nothing but your eternal servitude.”
That thought, heresy to the gums, ate at Malikus’ insides, made them tumble with doubt, roll with a sense of uneasiness she was not accustomed too. It conflicted with her training as a sorceress…
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