2:Dweomer

From Reydala

The road back to Sanoan was for the most part, uneventful. Most of the time, Aknier spent in reflection of all that had come to pass. Not in his entire life did he expect to lay eyes on his Goddess. The only reason the Mulinel sickness had not taken over him was due to the call of battle, the daemon which threathened to tear apart what they were fighting for. Her appearance was not, however, without profound effect on Aknier.

He sighed heavily. He remembered...just before the begining of the battle of the armies why he never expected to ever see Mulinel. The spellbook. It would not have been appropriate then and there to explain his words. Aknier knew he was much more noticably violent and quicker to arms than his bretheren, even if he despised killing as much as they did. The school of Evocation served Mulinel's purposes the least, yet Aknier believed it to be one of the most powerful and quid-essencial schools of Aracadia. Yet...what good could force do? Was it not the ability to manipulate the natural forces so easily that made wizards feared? The lust of pure power that drove many arcanists to insanity...the battles, the woe caused by powerful spellcasters with evil in their hearts...the burning. The burning of fire...the bar. The people screaming as they tried to escape, their bodies quickly becomming smoulder...Aknier almost went pale for a moment. He remember Tristen's words and echoed..."Is there nothing magic can do but destroy in the end?" Aknier at times, figured himself guilty of that same sin.

Yet...she was smiling. Smiling at him. Was she...happy with him?