Sitting in the sparsely furnished room within the Risen Phoenix, Cald Ashby sat at the desk, the flickering candlelight his sole companion. His eyes darted across the remnant of the Batiri journal he had "acquired". Having exhausted his usage of divination spells for the day he found himself at a stand still, though the rituals inscribed within the journal promised power... At a price.
A legion of voices whispered the promises of power lost, the power to control the universe at his fingertips. Cald knew the allure of such promises and he'd heard these whispers before... Their words a sweet melody, the temptation undeniable.
He could feel the breath on his neck, it's warmth causing his skin to prickle in anticipation. He knew in the past he had given in fully to these whispers, the cost itself too great to accept. But, he told himself, this time was different. He had -her- to protect, the light to keep himself descending too deep into the abyss... To turn too when the darkness surrounds.
Taking the letter opener in his hand, he pressed its razor sharp edge against the flesh of his palm. As the blade pierced through his skin, he uttered the reviled words held within the crazed shamans journal... His entire body tingled with unadulterated pleasure as the Weave coursed with his blood, the strands of the Weave binding with the life essence of his being...
Titillation.
Euphoria.
Bliss.
With a shudder, he quickly applied pressure to the wound. A quick bandage... They wouldn't know. She... She wouldn't... couldn't know.
