Arn had seen the horrors of war. Survived many battles and seen many of his men die. He had literally melted the skin off bones of many a pirate and had walked through gore infested decking. But even with all this, he stood transfixed and in horror at the sight before him. Not because it was unappealing compared to the lovely face of his protegee but because he wished it was not happening to said lady.
The master mage felt the young woman had already been through enough. In the short time that he had known her he had discovered that she had been tormented by a sort of sect or cult. He had been with her when her mother died. Their small amount of peace short lived by a demon haired woman who had hinted that Eilis had been taken advantage maybe even raped.
Yet, all these horrors seemed to pale in comparison to the surreal visage in front of him. He could do nothing but stare as the impossible transfiguration and morphing between reality and nightmare took possession of the young girl’s body. He wondered if the poor girl had been designated as nothing more than a vessel for some dark being. Still, that vessel had feelings and it was important to him.
Such violent usage and expenditure of magic was not only tearing the poor girl apart but seemed to be causing havoc among the Aether. Very rarely could mages feel the connection or manipulation of the Aether by others. It tended to be only when the mage themselves connected tot eh Aether that they could sense anything. In a similar way that one can not feel the cool water of a mountain river until one plunges into it.
However, he was able to almost feel the Aether scream as the boundaries and lines of it were stretched and pulled. The magic was being disrupted on one point and made to burs forth at another. It was like the eruptions of magma in an erupting volcano. It made Arn’s head feel like it would explode. His very soul threatened to be engulfed. Or was it his heart ache at the poor girl’s plight?
His musings were stopped by the dark representations sudden attack. The battle mage drew from years of experience with manipulating magic and his own considerable skill. His hands curled and grasped strands of the Aether like bunches of hair or the mane of a horse. He had meant to put a shield with a piece of the floor. The floor just in front of him visibly cracked as the man clasped the connecting threads of Aether.
He did not have a reason or chance to enable his plan as the hair stopped but a few feet from him. Arn traded one concern for another one. He saw and heard the woman that had become indispensable to him. Only to have her be pulled back like a swimmer drowning just beneath the surface.
"Take…Kill me!”
He plead cut him straight to his soul. The Aether, already straining under an emotional boil, was further aggravated by his soul screaming into it. His feelings radiated like tidal waves from the epicenter. His eyes widened.
Arn remembered the promise he had asked of her. But he had not agreed. He had thought at that time that he would destroy any enemies that threatened her. However, how was he to protect her from herself?
Near him, Tyrhallan and the witch conversed but Arn only had eyes for Eilis dark form or not. His mind raced to try and find a solution. Finally his mind settled on a course of action. It was risky. He would have to be very precise. If it failed, it could mean the death of the girl. In a way, this would satisfy the girls request.
To the master mage however, this was not the optimal ending. He concentrated deeply. He strengthened his connection with the Aether. He dove into it and he very literally felt himself dive deeper into hits icy waters. He flowed with it, becoming one with it.
His goal was to manipulate the air around Eilis producing a sort of pressure around her neck. Normally, the sleeper hold would be applied in close combat but he could there was no guarantee he could get close enough to the transformed girl without damage to himself or her. So he concentrated, the strain evident in his eyes as he tried to make her pass out. He felt horrible at this attack on her even if it was for her own good.
The master mage felt the young woman had already been through enough. In the short time that he had known her he had discovered that she had been tormented by a sort of sect or cult. He had been with her when her mother died. Their small amount of peace short lived by a demon haired woman who had hinted that Eilis had been taken advantage maybe even raped.
Yet, all these horrors seemed to pale in comparison to the surreal visage in front of him. He could do nothing but stare as the impossible transfiguration and morphing between reality and nightmare took possession of the young girl’s body. He wondered if the poor girl had been designated as nothing more than a vessel for some dark being. Still, that vessel had feelings and it was important to him.
Such violent usage and expenditure of magic was not only tearing the poor girl apart but seemed to be causing havoc among the Aether. Very rarely could mages feel the connection or manipulation of the Aether by others. It tended to be only when the mage themselves connected tot eh Aether that they could sense anything. In a similar way that one can not feel the cool water of a mountain river until one plunges into it.
However, he was able to almost feel the Aether scream as the boundaries and lines of it were stretched and pulled. The magic was being disrupted on one point and made to burs forth at another. It was like the eruptions of magma in an erupting volcano. It made Arn’s head feel like it would explode. His very soul threatened to be engulfed. Or was it his heart ache at the poor girl’s plight?
His musings were stopped by the dark representations sudden attack. The battle mage drew from years of experience with manipulating magic and his own considerable skill. His hands curled and grasped strands of the Aether like bunches of hair or the mane of a horse. He had meant to put a shield with a piece of the floor. The floor just in front of him visibly cracked as the man clasped the connecting threads of Aether.
He did not have a reason or chance to enable his plan as the hair stopped but a few feet from him. Arn traded one concern for another one. He saw and heard the woman that had become indispensable to him. Only to have her be pulled back like a swimmer drowning just beneath the surface.
"Take…Kill me!”
He plead cut him straight to his soul. The Aether, already straining under an emotional boil, was further aggravated by his soul screaming into it. His feelings radiated like tidal waves from the epicenter. His eyes widened.
Arn remembered the promise he had asked of her. But he had not agreed. He had thought at that time that he would destroy any enemies that threatened her. However, how was he to protect her from herself?
Near him, Tyrhallan and the witch conversed but Arn only had eyes for Eilis dark form or not. His mind raced to try and find a solution. Finally his mind settled on a course of action. It was risky. He would have to be very precise. If it failed, it could mean the death of the girl. In a way, this would satisfy the girls request.
To the master mage however, this was not the optimal ending. He concentrated deeply. He strengthened his connection with the Aether. He dove into it and he very literally felt himself dive deeper into hits icy waters. He flowed with it, becoming one with it.
His goal was to manipulate the air around Eilis producing a sort of pressure around her neck. Normally, the sleeper hold would be applied in close combat but he could there was no guarantee he could get close enough to the transformed girl without damage to himself or her. So he concentrated, the strain evident in his eyes as he tried to make her pass out. He felt horrible at this attack on her even if it was for her own good.