The room smelled of incense and sweat. Five large mounds of sand, each taller than a man and of a different color and consistency—from far-flung regions of Eretsu, most likely—were placed at equidistant points in the room. Peppered on the surface of these mounds were dozens of candles. They were all aflame, yet bled no wax. This was sorcery, of course. All of it. Archa didn’t know much about magics, but it was clear this wasn’t some kind of idle cantrip the Khan had been performing. If the scarlet iconography and strange ever-burning candles represented what Archa thought they did—what Archa had been once told about long ago, in a darkened battlefield tent, by a beautiful woman—this breed of magic was long-dead. This unholy spell was a remnant from another when, from an age of unspeakable horror and wonder, from when the Ancient Ones roamed Eretsu. This was before they ascended to godhood, many millennia ago. This was Zri magic. Pre-Arcanum. —Golem Arcana: A Legacy of Blood, by J.C. Hutchins
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 18:01:43 +0000
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