There was nothing for it.
It was time to try the spell… outside the grotto with the Bloodstone.
Rhiann uttered the phrases perfectly and pinched the fossilized shypoke eggshell. The hard shell dissipated into powder as the sorcerer conjured. As an extra bit of precaution, Rhiann applied amber to his left palm and grasped the Staff of the West Wind. He tied his bag of holding to the Staff of the West Wind.
Rhiann cast the spell.
To the north, the prismatic dragon Eyerthrin felt a great foreboding wave on the sea of Magick. Lord Bailiwick stood abruptly and spilled the potion he was creating. Caye Klarje Marsh felt foreboding feelings. Throughout Thynna uncertainty gripped sorcerers in the inner and outer ward. Ninth level Magick created great waves on the surface of Magick’s sea.
Rhiann knew he had performed the complex incantation correctly. The spell should have worked.
But…
Ruin…?
The young Sorcerer felt his body and mind ripped through the fabric of space and time.
Absolute darkness…
Cold…
Void…
Then colors, and energies…
His thoughts were spinning violently out of control. He passed through vortex after vortex of color and energy. Pain coursed through very nerve ending. He felt the air sucked from his lungs.
Then, grayness…
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