Within the caliginous confines of his chamber the Dark Mage of the Shaitan scoured through the deluge of applications and requisitions that Aolani had retrieved for him from the Red Dragon, the capacious quantity enough to blanket the ossein plateau of his desk in its entirety. The overly-receptive outcome was more than welcomed, albeit a bit unexpected. His sophomoric relationship with Rhy'din rendered him uncertain of how such a request would be received in a city contrived prominently of suspicion and incertitude. Needless to say, he was receptive to the sliver of elation, even if it were just a glimmer in bilious eyes.

Upon her visit, Aolani, the Covenant's succulent coalescence of Siren and Succubus, had also delivered another parchment; signified importance in its solitary stance away from the rest of the missives. It was a report pertaining to a meeting from the previous night; an assassin who had sought out one of the Shaitan in hopes of joining the fold. Her abraded countenance, foreign to such alluring features, relayed as much information as he needed, though he would read through the report in its thorough accumulation of events to appease her sense of accomplishment, and his own unrelenting concern for detail.

A leisurely recoil brought him into the comfort of his sturdy high-backed chair, hands --one gloved and one bare-- running uncontested along the length of smooth obsidian arms to reach the small bulbs in which they terminated. An incidental pivot brought afflicted eyes to the far wall that now housed a new decoration; a detailed map of the entire area, landmarks and sources of power noticeably discernible, though, other less relevant milestones and monuments were also indicated. The unified intelligence gathered by the Covenant's progenies methodical scrutiny of the landscape had been opulently substantial.

The destination that harnessed his attention was the penned circle that marked the location of the Institute. It seemed that ruined asylums marred the surrounding countryside for miles, the land's omnipotent patrons a viable reason for both the need, and the destruction, of so many. The proper location for such a convergence of power was vital to the assiduous accomplishment that he had planned, and a domicile of insanity was an impeccable edifice to house such endeavors.

The consideration given toward the old asylum slanted his thoughts toward that of his newest apprentice, Tia'tari Blayne. She was bright-eyed and eager, though surprisingly lacked most wizard's seemingly innate narcissistic gene and cutthroat ambition. She was selfless, and yet determined; adamant in proving her worth through arcane evolution rather than the contrasting failures of her colleagues and counterparts. Such introspective focus would move her quickly through the circles of magic.

She would be a worthy thrall of his malicious disposition.

From a vigilant remoteness upon a contiguous slope, ailing eyes, contaminated with iniquitous evil, observed as the elementals concluded their restoration efforts. The aberrations of air and water were vital in the refurbishing of the asylum, their innate talents pragmatic to the precipitancy of the architectural renewal.

The emerald scenery that had dominated the secluded countryside was now marred with an alabaster edifice, a chalky beacon upon the lush and viral rural panorama. While isolated from the efficacious traffic in and out of Rhy'din, it was not so far removed that it was impracticable to discover, an impeccable location as far as Arkon was concerned; convinced that he couldn't have placed the Institute more conveniently had he handpicked its destination.

The water elements began to dissipate in their apathetic return to him, the fluidic composition dwindling with meandering stride across the dry land, fraught with desperation for a hastily egress back to sacred saturation. It had become a common sight throughout their employ, the nearest body of water capable of accommodating the required personnel for such an arduous undertaking being the aqueous domain that Erinyes had claimed. Its distance made the retreat of mitigated elementals unfeasible, thus reducing their existence to the futile commission of mindless laborer.

In contrast, the air elementals were abundantly fortuitous. Once weakened by a lengthy sojourn inside the asylum, each one could simply slip out into the open air and rejuvenate a fading vitality. As strong as twenty men and their mindless regard slivered by points of sagaciousness, they were the perfect architects to engineer the resurrection of the desolate hospital. While the water elementals had to be summoned daily, there was only one arcane conjuration of air aberrations necessary, their strength enduring through the entirety of the process.

Ghastly features, obscured and astray due to the inky nebulous of his cowl's atramentous vault, would regard the distant construct, malefic appeasement adhered.



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You have allowed the Athalos Ledger to be removed."

I watched him as he squirmed before me. I had placed a careful amount of interest in that particular scroll and I had rescued this foolish mortal from his pact with the wildfey. In return, he had but one simple task.

He was not my only such pact-bound creature to do my bidding. In fact, another such being watched dispassionately as he held the withered form of the old man before me.

He opened his mouth to continue his feeble protestations, but could only gasp as steam poured forth. His eyes, protruding as they heated within the sockets, boiling outward in a spill of viscuous fluid.

A scream.

The brutish man released the old librarian quickly as the heat from his body scalded his hands. His stoic features now housing an expression of abject horror and terror.

The burnt smell of crisped flesh wafted, not unpleasantly, in the air. I watched as the old man's body crumpled in on itself like a house of cards, falling into ash as the heat of my spell flared to unforgiveably high temperatures.

And to think he had almost died of old age before foolishly seeking my wrath.

Slowly I looked up at the trembling lout who stood behind the pile of smoldering cinders. The whites of his eyes were visible as they rolled much like a horse's when faced with no escape.

"You will not displease me as he did."

He nodded so vigorously I thought perhaps his head would come unglued from its position on his bull neck.

"Good."

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