Novel & Cerita Advent Of The Dark Mage

Nathan paused, and surveyed the room. "Dark mages are the definition of pure evil. They are mostly influenced by demons, triggered by evil situations, and so they can never be good. Not when anger, sadness, penury, famine and all those things make them happy, make them rejoice. They rejoice in the death of the people because it fosters their sacrifice to their demons which make them stronger. Most have drunk so much blood that they are now otherworldly. If we are then to put the facts together, we will see a pattern, Legardo joining hands with vampires, and then dark mages, I can't…" Another pause which hightened the dread that have descended in the room.

Left to my own devices, I retreated further into the safety of the shadows, the weight of uncertainty pressing upon me. The rogue wolf, recovering from his failed attack, turned his attention back to me. His eyes burned with renewed determination, his snarl a haunting echo in the stillness. It was clear that he wouldn't relent so easily. Summoning the dark magic once more, I channeled its power through my being. Shadows coalesced around me, forming into tendrils that slithered across the forest floor. With a calculated strike, I unleashed them upon the rogue, ensnaring him within their ethereal grasp.

“I would sense the magic if it were so.” I dismounted and unsaddled Coryfe as the mage sat on one of the branches of the fallen tree and drew from a bag he wore under his cloak, a small book, bound in leather, with curls of metal protecting the corners and clasping the covers shut. “We need a fire,” he said to me, his fingers stroking the cover reverently. There was no writing on the cover or binding, but I could see something had been embossed into the leather. Perhaps the embossing was the shadow of writing that had once been picked out with ink, but which time had faded or flaked away.