The only sound to break the stark silence within the library was the occasional flipping of a page. Raam Miras sat in a leather chair in the corner of the room and studied. Never before had he been required to study the theorems and machinations of spellcraft. In his previous life, his magic had come from within. It had been wild, feral and powerful magic. With his rebirth as the Magi of the Fey, so was his magic reborn. In flipping through the pages of the voluminous tome given to him by Mahr, his fingers felt electric. He was struck by the beautiful and deadly complexity of this method of casting. It was art and science. It was much more flexible and more powerful in many ways. By researching the proper formulae he could create a much larger variety of potent magical effects. Within this one tome alone were easily double the number of spells he had mastered as a sorcerer.
Mahr had been generous to him. He would miss the old wizard and his sage advice. Raam would miss Ella as well. He felt empathy for her in this time of transformation. The realization, acceptance and training in the early stages of casting were a confusing and trying time. Raam had often felt as if he was stumbling blindly in the dark as he sorcerous powers grew more potent. It was only when Mahr had arrived that he finally had a mentor to guide him. Ella was in good hands.
Raam closed the book and let it rest on his lap and took a sip of the Fey wine he normally reserved for Perlivash. It quenched his thirst better than the water from the Stagfell deep wells in the weeks since his return. His personality and consciousness had changed. At moments he could capture flashes of his prior personality and then they were gone. The memories were all still present but the vessel containing them had been reshaped. He reflected on his own past and found it somewhat frivolous. He felt older and yet by appearance he looked as young if not younger than the day before his transformation. His skin was fairer, yet his build much more powerful. His eyes were sharper and he even noticed that the tips of his ears were ever so slightly developing a point at their apex. He hadn’t shaved since the day of his rebirth. He was more cunning, more agile and now a capable swordsman. The rebirth and transformation had brought so much change, it was fitting he was now known as Raam Miras and no longer Raam Corso. He was a new man. Rather than being concerned, he embraced this new life. Had he not been given this opportunity, he would have died as penance for not honoring his part of that cursed bargain. He would seize every moment of this new life as if it were a gift.
He reached over and pulled Tempest into his hand. The blade was ancient and as razor sharp as the day it was forged.
“To wield this blade is an honor” he said to himself.
It was perfectly balanced and the dragon shaped pommel felt natural and comforting in his grip. In long hours of practice he found that he could channel his magic through the blade as a conduit of arcane power. He had never seen this much adamantine in one place before. Its black blade reflected no light.
“It is an honor” he repeated to himself.
Soon he would be off to meet with the Queen Tyg and her Fey Court. Their destiny was now intertwined with the fate of his small kingdom. He would honor their pact and keep a portion of these lands wild and untamed in their honor. For whosoever incurred the ire of the Fey Court, so too incurred the wrath of the Lord Baron. Though the simple citizens of Stagfell did not realize it, a powerful accord had been struck in the River Lands. Raam hoped that it was an accord that would see both nations welcome prosperity and peace…
