[Flashback] Sister Act [Kamalia]

by **Marishka Timandre** on March 9th, 2010, 7:58 pm

Day 27, Fall, 503 AV

Spelltower Timandre. Even though she is a lover of books herself, it was definitely the last place she'd want to read a book in. Not so much for the ambiance and quality of the content, but for dread of her sanity wisping away from her in the form of the brilliant, powerful, yet ultimately superfluous mage. With the structure of marbled white looming ahead, she could already hear the vituperations which her brain was shouting at her. But she needed to find her sister, for while the aversion was great, the compulsion was even more so.

Although an extremely warm and kind person, Aunt Kidala, who safekeeps the place, has never been the type of person Marishka loves being with for long periods of time. Despite being highly intelligent and soft spoken, the elder Konti has the unfortunate disability of having an extremely short memory span--an unbelievably inconsistent memory that, more often than not, infuriates even the stoic Marishka. She can forget names like they were complicated math problems, coming up with wrong variations again and again despite repeated attempts to correct her, until the person she's talking to either gets too tired to continue, or she bogs down herself and starts talking about something else. Which, fantastically, leads to another point--Kidala loves to chit-chat about random things. Chat-chat, regardless of what the person she's talking to is doing or asking about. Chit-chat, without a care--or comprehension--whether the person she's talking to is listening or not. She can talk about her cat's favorite foods, the number of her books, the nature of the generation today, about how the sky is blue, about why the earth is green.

Marishka stood outside the tower, a flat expression of apprehension lining her the sides of her mouth. She knew Kamalia would be inside the building at this time of day, half-buried before a pile of books about arcana and cantrip spells. The elder Timandre has never been able to discern why her favorite sister was always so immersed into her studies, as if the only pleasure in life was to be found in the pages she reads. She of course, had learned that being an avid reader is a good things, her favorite subjects being the general history of Mizahar. It is something useful on certain situations, something she didn't need to flaunt, only reveal at the most opportune time.

But magic? How would someone be able to learn what an applicable art is without practicing it? Often she would tell her, "The book is the most basic step towards application," but she has never seen this 'application' before, in any shape or form, which has led her to dismiss her arcane perusals as a field of folly and laziness. All this time she had been trying to get her sister interested in more physical pursuits, suvai training and swordfighting being the foremost among everything else, but Kamalia has always remained resolute and unyielding. In turn, constant rejection has only served to challenge the proud Marishka to pursue her sister even more relentlessly.

It was absolutely no wonder to her why Kamalia is so wispy and frail; she very rarely ever does anything strenuous, like a perfect flower that shies away from heavy rains. To Marishka, it was like shrinking away from what she was meant to be, and in her eyes that destiny is becoming a skilled warrioress like herself.

And what does the fey and willowy Kamalia do when she is outside? She sings like a prophetess wherever she goes, or swims in the lake looking for pearls, exercises which, while sufficient for the younger Konti, seemed lacking to the abrasive older Marishka.

She shook her head and let out a puff of air. No, its not enough, She has to get out. She has to show her that she has what it takes to vindicate all the years of persuasion she had lavished upon her. With this compulsive desire throbbing inside her scheming head, she took a deep breath and braved the winding steps going upwards, where the fearsome Aunt Kidala would surely be waiting.

True enough, her aunt was there, that silly, permanent smile again on her lips, even when her face was veered towards a wall of books. There was something so bionic, so unnatural about the way she turned her head towards Marishka, a face so practiced and precise in its expression that it had the ability to send a chill down her spine, But she was already inside, and there was no turning back. Clearing her throat, she pushed onward towards Kidala, her eyes half-lowered in bracing for the storm of tomfoolery that is to come.

"Aunt Kidala, may mother Avalis bless shed light upon your endeavors." she greeted. "I'm looking for Kamalia. Is she here?"

In truth, she meant it in another context, something closer to "may mother Avalis shed light upon your dim wit." A thin smile curled up at the thought, only for it to disappear instantaneously when a response had been elicited.

"Oh, Karbalia? What a pretty name. Is she a friend? I would so love to meet her." the voice was sweet, but the effect on Marishka's circumstantially short fuse was speedy, with her teeth grinding together in boiling irritation. And just as always, Aunt Kidala the goldfish continued without even getting a hint of her niece's torturous ordeal. "You know, she might get along well with my niece Kamalia. They have such lovely names, don't you think? In fact, you seem quite familiar yourself. Do I know you?"

There she goes, that memory of hers acting out again, as if deliberately bedeviling her patience. She could already feel a vein propping up across her temple, but she fought on, inhaling a breath of warm air to cool her senses down. "Aunt Kidala, its me, Marishka. Your niece. I'm looking for Kamalia, your other niece, my sister."

The old Konti blinked twice through her round spectacles, her eyebrow perking up as if in thought. For a moment Marishka was hopeful; it would be a huge occurrence if she could get the subject of the matter in only two tries! "Ahh! Why hello there Marina. You have such a delicious name! Why, I was just telling my cat Eclipse about this excellent brand of tuna called Marina--they sell it in the market nowadays you know. It's a huge hit!--about how I'm going to buy him some? Well, he simply licked his paws and walked off! Can you believe it? Anyways, what are we talking about again?"

Marishka's hopes crashed into a heap on the floor, spilling out of her mind like an ocean vent. Sighing in exasperation, she was just about to continue correcting her, just to let out some of the tension, despite knowing that it would only increase it tenfold or more. Palming her forehead, Marishka simply waved it off and said "Nevermind Aunt Kidala. I'll just go look for Ka-Ma-Li-A myself." before going down the maze of books. Kidala for her part simply shrugged sheepishly before going back to her own business, humming happily to herself.

It took Marishka no less than five minutes to find her sister in the towering rows and shelves around the library. As was expected, she has a book in her hand and is almost nose-deep into her reading. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned on a shelf before letting out a loud "Ahem" to take her attention.

"You know Kamalia, you really ought to get out more. Books won't talk back to you you know." she said in a joking voice.

by **Kamalia Timandre** on March 12th, 2010, 9:15 pm

An adolescent girl sat before a low study table in the wizard’s library, garbed in the pale blue robe that marked her as a reimancer’s apprentice. The robe was left open, revealing a thin frame clad in a well-worn purple tunic and leggings that ended several inches shy of her bare feet. Her face was heart-shaped and finely featured, with violet eyes that sparked with an undying determination and an expressive mouth currently pulled down into a mutinous scowl. A mop of silky white curls tumbled about her little shoulders, glowing in the candlelight. There was a small stack of parchment to her left, six completed scrolls to her right, and a pile of crumpled and discarded parchment scattered around her feet.

This girl’s name was Kamalia, the resident wizard’s niece and a neophyte spellcaster. The girl was so occupied with her work, painstakingly inscribing complex arcane runes and sigils on the calfskin parchment. There was a smudge of dark ink along her right eyebrow, as if raked through by an impatient thumb. Today’s lesson was penmanship once again. Not only did a spellcaster have to be able to pronounce words of magic correctly, but she also had to be able to write them down, form each glyph, letter and rune into its proper shape. The practice held the full attention and complete concentration of the apprentice wizard, for words of arcane must be penned with exactness, precision and neatness.

Write the spell word djed, for example, meaning “backbone” in Nader-canoch, with a wobble in d and a scrunch in the e, and the glyph won’t likely work—or worse, cause unfavourable results. Fortunately for the konti girl, she was already past the age where she was still fumble-fisted, else her quill pen would either spill or sputter, bend or break or leap out of her clutching fingers.

Kamalia picked up the quill, which was white, had come from the wing of a swan. Various types of quills were employed to write different types of glyphs and magical scrolls. While there were no written magical theories whatsoever proving the effectiveness of glyphs through quills, finding the right writing implement was important for a practitioner of the art. She had tried to write with the quill of an eagle, of an owl, and that of a hawk. A goose quill was for everyday writing, only to be used for arcane penning during an emergency. Eventually, the konti girl found herself most comfortable writing with the quill pen made of the feather of a swan.

The girl dipped the swan-feathered quill pen into the crystal inkwell, and solemnly, meticulously inscribed another crescent to complete the glyph. For a few more moments, the girl wrote with relative ease, the pen gliding on the calfskin, a spot of ink on her right forefinger. Her handwriting was cursive and graceful, but tended to be cramp and tiny. Finally, when the girl was at the last elegant twirl, she caught her breath and her hand trembled slightly—just slightly—misshaping the last curl of the last twirl. Frustrated beyond words, Kamalia cursed her clumsy hand, the treacherous quill pen and the clueless parchment in the ancient tongue. She crumpled the paper and flung it towards the marble walls. The entire glyphwork was nearly perfect, but to Aunt Kidala’s standards, “near perfect” was never enough!

Suddenly she tossed aside the quill and rose. A quick, impatient kick sent parchment wads flying.

“Copy the spell scroll, my child,” she repeated bitterly in an uncanny imitation of her aunt’s doting tones. “By afternoon, you’ll memorize the glyph as well as your name, and you can have the evening free.”

“That, from someone who can’t even remember my name for ten seconds!” Kamalia said in her own voice as she stalked across the room to glare at the tapestry portrait of her aunt. “Well, guess what, auntie. I have memorized thirty eight incantations this morning, and an entire chapter of Haava’s Treatise on Air, Water and Motion!”

The image of Aunt Kidala continued to smile down at her, unperturbed by her niece’s unusual flurry of ill-temper. Kamalia sighed and smiled at the portrait apologetically. She genuinely liked her teacher—the only one who was willing to share with her the eldritch secrets of arcane magic. If she had to learn the art of magic, and apparently she did, there were worse ways of going about it. Aunt Kidala was a gentle, elderly konti who had an unbelievably short memory span. Kamalia was not sure whether these strange mental conditions were caused by djed overgiving, or it was a natural thing, but everyone knew the reputation of Kidala Timandre, one of Mura’s most powerful wizards.

Despite her mental instability, Aunt Kidala was an effective, even a competent teacher. How it could happen, even Kamalia was not sure, but Kidala was simply one of the most gifted spellcasters in all of the Konti Isle. She had efficient training regimens and magical lessons, and all the theorems and formulas, incantations and arcane gestures Aunt Kidala seemed to have learned by heart, even though she could barely remember people’s names—or the topic, at hand.

Rumour has it that the wizard was in truth, a sane and perfectly sociable woman, and she pretended to be slightly unhinged to keep people away. True enough, the konti mage had a private room at the uppermost parts of the Spelltower Timandre. Dark whispers suggested that Aunt Kidala possessed a collection of magical treasures—and ambitions—that she wished to keep from the eyes of other konti. Strangely enough, the door that led to that private room had intricate patterns of symbols that seemed to radiate arcane energies. No one dared to touch the door, for any part of the design could be a magecrafted rune, ready to unleash its magicks upon the careless or unwary. She longed to inspect that mysterious door, but Kamalia had the sense to leave the challenge for another day.

Sighing once again, Kamalia walked towards one of the shelves and drew a rather large, dark-bound book. The cover was inscribed with elaborate runes framing the book’s title: “The Eye of the Magi: A Primer to Auristics” by Antonifleros Mullonde. She took the book and opened it to the first spell. She skimmed the page, and the meaning of the symbols came to her with a rush of excitement and disbelief.

It was a book that taught how to sense magic and identify its properties!

Kamalia leafed through the spellbook, her excitement growing by the moment. Magical detection was an extremely useful discipline, and it was extremely difficult to find teachers of auristics in Mura, as the seers depended solely on the Sight that was goddess-given. How could Aunt Kidala have forgotten to teach her this?! Kamalia hugged the precious book to her chest and silently thanked Avalis.

Excitedly, Kamalia returned to her study table and lit another tallow candle from the flame of a nearly spent stub, and then settled down to read. The book was very old, and how it was written was rather simple and quaint. She was deep and intent upon her reading, when she heard a familiar ahem. At first, there was irritation on Kamalia’s face, as if she resented being interrupted in her reading.

The irritation passed swiftly, however, when the apprentice lifted her violet eyes and recognized Marishka, her elder sister. “Tell me, sister. Have your suvai started speaking to you, as well?” Kamalia said in a smirk.

by **Marishka Timandre** on March 14th, 2010, 6:44 am

It was such a bright and majestic place, the spelltower. It truly was a perfect place for a reader--or a reclusive monk--to spend some time alone in for study, with all the knowledge in the world built into this great library of wonder. Yet despite her own love of books and her preference for being alone most of the time, the tower somehow suffocated Marishka. The loneliness here is a bit different from the indifference she'd experience outside. At least in the pavilions there would always be people around, no matter if they were gawking or blanching at her. Here, in the maze of stories and shelves, her thoughts strangely bit back at her and raked her ideas.

It made her wonder about the purple-clad mage before her, about their differences, their strengths and weaknesses. It was truly a relief to her that they were nothing alike, for her suit in things was not something she'd relish being who she is. What she is. The contrasts in their souls was what draws her to this particular sister, it seems. There was nothing repetitive about them, and she appreciated the uniqueness, the individuality between them.

One look at Kamalia and she knew, she just knew that she was going to say something sarcastic and witty. And she did not disappoint, with a tiny smirk creeping into the side of Marishka's own lips at her young sister's last clever jab. "No, not yet. But at least it get me the opportunity to have people swear at me behind my back."

She broke from her posture, grabbed a chair and then sat down beside Kamalia, falling into silence and resting her cheeks on her hands. She was already composing strategies as to how she was going to get the young neophyte to go outside. Perhaps she'd lure her out by offering to buy her a new book? She considered the factors for a moment before frowning at it. It would be incredibly stupid; she already has everything she could ever want to read in the tower. Besides, it would be an unnecessary drain on her resources. How about food? A chortle ran up her lips as she waved the idea off. She has never been so primitive, and eating wasn't one of her best hobbies, hence her slim and wispy form.

Running out of ideas, she decided to simply be out with it and tell her directly. It has always been her style, after all. All she needed was an opening, a moment of breakage in her concentration. It was every bit like the usual in suvai training. It was all about waiting for the opportune moment to strike, allowing her looming form and perusing eyes to be all over the place.

One minute, two minutes, then three minutes. The ticks seemed to drone out forever in the silent enclave, with only the occasional footsteps from Aunt Kidala echoing in the marble floors of the tower. Kamalia remained so delved into her scholastic activity that there was nothing for Marishka to exploit, or even say or do. A wax lamp with a tiny flame caught her attention for a moment, though the bright lights of the place muted any sort of contemplative feeling she could have drawn from looking at it.

Four minutes, five, then six. The ticks just went on and on, and the atmosphere seemed to soften up for her, making her eyes droop and her consciousness blur. Fighting through her grogginess, she could see that Kamalia remained comfortable and relaxed. It was as if she was purposely staying poised in an unwitting effort to break her will! A quirk in her brow here and a sigh there, yet she continued to read. Marishka still didn't speak out, trying to give Kamalia some privacy. The less she fussed about it, the quicker she'd finish, she thought.

Or, it could have gone the other way around.

Seven minutes, eight, then nine. By the time of the first chime, Marishka's face had sunk into a mashed expression of boredom, sleepiness and complacency, with a long flat line gracing her mouth. Tapping her cheek awake, she turned her eyes towards her sister's alabaster face, observing every detail in her youthful face.

It has always been like that with Kamalia; she seemed so far beyond her own years, always so precocious and ready to heave away at anything that might hinder her. This is why she has made so much progress with her studies in so little time. And while Marishka usually was the calmer one between the two of them, Kamalia has always been the more serene one. She had often wondered in jest if her sister was secretly older than her, despite the huge age gap between them. She has always been so mature, maybe even more than her. Looking at her, with her mind into the massive book between her palms, the silence finally brimmed over for the elder Timandre.

"Tell me Kamalia, what so interests you about these... Magical books. Aren't you tired of reading?" she asked in a voice rendered small out of disinterest and mental fatigue. A white hand limply took one of the books stacked on the table, flipping over the pages nonchalantly through the myriad of Nader-Canoch scribbles and runic symbols. "You have been here for several hours already."

A bright idea suddenly flashed in her mind, rendering her awake from her stupor. Ever since she had been dismissing this as a waste of time, so perhaps it was time that she saw something out of it. A devious smile playing in her chest, she pulled closer towards Kamalia, her eyes boring into her so intensely that it wouldn't have mattered if she turned to gaze back at her or not.

"Little sister, how about you stop your reading for now and show me what you've learned of this... endeavor of yours. Let me see it applied. Fascinate me with your learnings. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to do something else with me? You know I'd hate to think that I've come all the way here just to watch you play with these pages."

She knew that her sister would already know what she'd have in mind for an alternative should she refuse, and that she wouldn't be the least receptive of it. She abhors physical activities, after all. Stilling her tongue, she paused for an answer.

by **Kamalia Timandre** on April 7th, 2010, 7:29 pm

While the konti of Mura were deliberately more open-minded than most races with regards to magic, Kamalia knew well that other human cultures were very uncomfortable with wizards. Some had even stooped so low that they created a popular, comforting belief that they used to avoid them. Wizards like being alone, humans often believed, as it gave them time to study and reflect on mystic truths laid bare by their sorcerous training.

While it was not entirely untrue as wizards distrust other spellcasters and sometimes, even their own sanity, this belief was patently false. Wizards didn’t like being alone any more or any less than architects, soldiers or sailors did. They recognized the lie for what it was: a socially acceptable excuse to forget to invite them to parties, a reason to put them up in distant towers and a blame-free way to send them on long trips into other cities.

Sentiments towards wizards vary by races, of course. Kamalia felt fortunate that konti were sympathetic to magic-users, being inherently gifted with mystic powers. The Timandre clan was among the konti families that had so many spellcasters in their lineage that mothers never treat them differently from any other daughter.

Marishka visiting her younger sister was an ample proof that discrimination against spellcasters was almost unheard of in the Konti Isle. In return for this ostensible open-mindedness, the Timandre family expected a great deal from its wizards and saddled them with nigh-incredulous tasks. By all standards, Kamalia Timandre was no recluse, having forced to live with several sisters and other female relatives. Privacy was an uncommon notion to the konti society, especially to such a large family like the Timandre clan.

Kamalia only smiled in response to Marishka’s aptly-said reply, and continued to peruse the newfound spellbook. The Eye of the Magi: A Primer to Auristics teaches a discipline of personal magic that enables the practitioner to read auras at a rudimentary level. Given Aunt Kidala’s mental state, it was not far-fetched that the elder konti wizard had forgotten to teach her niece the exalted art of reading auras, but Kamalia somewhat doubted that. If Aunt Kidala considered her niece still incompetent in the ways of magic that she decided against teaching her Auristics, the apprentice mage was determined to show the spelltower mistress how much she had improved in the manipulation of djed over the past years of rigorous training and magical study. Kamalia read the preface, written in an elegant cursive script:

There is little doubt that every mage-scholar who has been seeking for the true and authentic discipline of auristics, fruitlessly looked around for years, if not even for centuries, to find a dependable method of magical training. The blazing thirst for this grand quest made mage-scholars again and again amass a mountain of books, from near and far, supposed to be the preeminent ones, abounding with elaborate formulas and theories, but which were lacking a great deal of real practice. However, very few could make sense from all the drivels collected in the course of time, and the learning progress has either been delayed so immensely or the grand quest to learn this enlightening art vanished in nebulous distances. Auristics is a science and art, an arcane discipline so vastly employed by wizards and scholars, by kings and savants, by nobles and peasants in the days of yore, where magic was commonplace and a science so sacred—and considering the universal polarity rules of active and passive, light and darkness, good and evil, this arcane science can serve virtuous as well as foul purposes. Let us take the example of a butcher’s knife, an object ought to be employed for butchering and/or dressing of animals only, which, however can become a dangerous weapon in the grasp of a murderer. All depends on the character of the individual—this principle goes just as well for all the spheres of magic sciences. The author cautions the neophyte aurist that to stare into the sun is to lose sight and auristics can blind just the same. While the discipline is safer than most arcane spheres, this art must be practised with temperance or with the training regimens prescribed.

It can be said that never before these efficient magical methods of reading and interpreting auras have been accessible for the seekers of the sacred disciplines.

—Antonifleros Vals-verindi Mullonde

Her excitement growing, Kamalia transcribed the author’s foreword into her journal and began leafing through the first pages of the textbook. The Primer contained plenty of information on the arcane mechanics of the subtle energies and radiations supposedly surrounding a person or an object called “auras”. Through auras, practitioners could reveal details magically that physical senses normally could not. It could reveal arcane activities, and at greater proficiency, unravel a person’s intent and even interact with auras.

Apparently, there were many hypotheses that this discipline was related to the gift of Avalis. These were disproved by scholarly circles and were adamantly deemed blasphemous by the konti seer-priestesses. The girl tilted her head and frowned. They also made little sense to Kamalia either. Firstly, the All-Seeing Mother always made certain that only those who bore great strength of mind and will can obtain her mystic gifts; Avalis was not likely to create a magic discipline that was within reach of those who sought such dangerous powers. Secondly, Divination meant accessing the Chavic Records to interpret the chavi of a certain individual or a group, while an aura was some kind of energy field emitted by an object, person or place, and everything in the world had an aura around them, not unlike how flames always created smoke. In any case, academicians and scholars proposed ideas that auristics was one of the arcane disciplines that mortals mastered on their own.

According to the author, mundane objects usually have a thin layer of aura about them, while items of power have varying volumes and dimensions of aura depending on the degree of djed and magical power they contained. Sentient beings emanated auras that span several feet while unintelligent creatures released a few inches worth of it. Needless to say, gods and alvina retained the widest span of auric fields about them, but these powerful beings could conceal their auras at will.

Since aurists can sense auras, the practitioner can gather information from the energy field of a person, object or a place akin to how one could deduce the intensity and the movement of a small candlelight by merely observing its small trail of smoke. As the wizard gains more expertise interpreting auras, he or she gains access to more detailed and accurate information, such as the intent or the exact emotion of a person or the magical properties and functions of a magecrafted artefact or a sorcerously animated contraption.

Kamalia was deep in contemplation of a text when her elder sister Marishka spoke to her. Her concentration shattered and for a moment, Kamalia forgot that her sister even existed. In truth, the younger Timandre did not want to be interrupted right now, but she could not utter that flatly to her sister. She’d kept at it since morning, copying the runes and reading books and memorizing theories over and over and over, but she preferred this than... swinging a suvai around like an imbecile.

Kamalia wanted to answer her sister’s question. Aunt Kidala had patiently explained that magic, like the sciences of numbers, was best learned in a well-defined sequence. A mage must train her memory, hone her powers of concentration, practice hundreds of precise and subtle movements with the dedication of a master dancer, learn the hidden language in which Alahean spells were declaimed, master the mechanics, the nature and laws of djed. Kamalia was not sure if her sister would accept that for an answer, so it was time to improvise.

“I'm sorry, but I am virtually incarcerated in the Spelltower until I finish a few glyphs, which takes several bells to accomplish. We can simply try to sneak out, but while Aunt Kidala suffers short-term memory loss, she is still a seer after all. Trust me when I say I’ve tried,” Kamalia said gently, smilingly. Kamalia did not answer her sister's request for a spell demonstration and continued perusing the spellbook.

by **Marishka Timandre** on April 11th, 2010, 12:17 pm

Marishka could only stare with an indignant reaction at her sister for the subtle refusal, though given the rule in the Spelltower prohibiting the raising of voices, she kept her protestations to herself, shoving the words back down her riled-up spirit. She had definitely not expected her to say no, although she knew that there was always the possibility that she would.

A land of peace, a land of aesthetic beauty, a land blessed by gods and mortals alike. The isle was first and foremost these amongst all things, one of the reasons why the vast majority of their people are often unrefined and unskilled when it comes to physical means of self-defense. As Konti despise confrontations and violence in general, they lean more on the arts of self-preservation and diplomacy to aid them in dealing with others. Unlike the other mortal races of Mizahar, however, a Konti's method of self-preservation usually in the form of their unnaturally gifted minds, as well as their other various divine-gifted senses.

It was truly a great relief to Marishka that she wasn't the only one trying to get the Timandre brood to practice Suvai training. Grandmother Shahal too is a fierce advocate of teaching all of them how to survive using their bodies as weapons. However with the quota in their household being one of more intellectual pursuits, Marishka is clearly in the minority in regards to this, and none of her sisters have taken kindly to the prodding. Kamalia more than others.

She had once heard Avalis' great High Oracle herself deem Kamalia as a 'lost cause' in the arts of war, which is why they have given her free reign in her fanatical study to be a wizard. Since being given the go-signal to study reimancy and other forms of magic, Kamalia has always been alone and away from home. At times, when she is returning from suvai practice in the pavilions late at night, she would still be in the Spelltower, reading complex runes and precise applicative instructions by candlelight. Marishka had discovered their pantry draped in ice not too long ago, which chilled her prized wine bottles so much that they didn't quite taste right anymore. And on another incident her supposedly hot bath pipe poured out freezing water. She has never asked around as to who the culprit was, but one could only suspect two people. One would be Aunt Kidala, who is rarely in the manse, and Kamalia, who still lives there.

it did not exasperate her too much, mainly because Kamalia is very young yet, and Marishka knows that she has a lot of room to grow into. Another reason would be because the calls from beyond the shores of Mura have grown intense for her then, indicating that it would soon be unbearable and irresistible for her, and every moment spent with her sisters should be, would be, precious to her.

But oh, how it wasn't pretty for her in the Spelltower that day. In sweet Avalis' name, it truly wasn't. She scoffed brusquely at the rejection. "Hmph. Very well. I suppose there is no disturbing you right now," she said disappointingly, standing up from her seat to start walking around the library, trying to find something that would interest her there so her coming would not go to waste.

The falls of her boots upon the marble floors resonated with an echo in the secluded glow of the place, though they weren't intentionally meant to be loud at all. It was simply too clean and too spic and span that it seemed to absorb every bit of noise there was to be heard. Even the breathing patterns began to be apparent to her ears.

She scoured the shelf directly in front of Kamalia's table, letting her fingers glide across the volumes as she read the titles intently. The feel of the books began to resonate back into the back of her now steel-inclined mind, bringing in more reason for her to stay despite the heavy atmosphere. The lights around the place felt a bit warm, which led her to look back at her sister. She wasn't sweating at all, despite the lack of proper ventilation and the harsh difficulty of the books she was reading!

Marishka's slow strides by the shelf came to an abrupt halt as her finger guided her eyes towards a particularly interesting title. By Sword and by Fire: The destruction of Mizahar at the hands of Ivak by Sorideus Orinfal sounded quite appealing to her; she has not read anything in awhile, and more often than not it was the ancient tales of bloodshed and destruction that claimed her attention when she does. It was a book which she had been searching for in Mura's Library for the longest time now, and finding it in a shelf dedicated to magical wisdom and knowledge surprised her quite pleasantly.

She walked back with a bit happier to the table, making sure to lift the chair as she pulled it out so that it wouldn't cause a disturbance. Once seated, she perused through the pages, letting the leaves fly before stopping at one point near the middle. She discerned that it would be near the part when Queen Kova was brutally slain by her husband, the Emperor Galifer Odalah of Suvan.

"On their wedding day in Suva, Suvan's capital city, Alahea and Queen Kova's forces were dispersed throughout the capital to guard against any sort of intervention. There was much celebration. However. upon Queen Kova's wedding night. her new husband--who was famous for his warrior's spirit and incomparable pride--discovered to his indignation he wasn't her first lover and flew into an unprecedented rage.

The very next day, he ordered the most famous and tragic decree that any figure in Alahea and Suvan's 4000 years of constant warfare had imposed. His sentence for her crime was swift and brutal. He immediately ordered her chained to the city walls of Suvan, where she was stripped bare of her clothing for all of the people to see. There the jeering mob of executioners stoned her close to death, with the unbearably degenerating word 'Whore' painted across her chest in her own blood, before the Emperor himself came forward with a cleaver and proceeded to put her out of her misery with a series of hacks to her already broken neck."

Marishka's eyes widened in a familiar sense of horror; she already knew how it went, still the description in this particular book's pages were a bit too brutal even for her own taste. Wincing a little as she turned her head away in disgust--as if the event was happening right before her very eyes--she shook her head in consternation before digging deeper into the events that followed.

"The generals and high mages of Alahea realized too late what was happening to their queen, and were incensed beyond reckoning when they did find out. Immediately a ferocious battle broke out between the hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded Alaheans and the Suvan army. Door to door fighting ensued in the city streets, and every combatant fought with savage resolve, either to avenge or to defend. The Alaheans in particular, who were resigned to their own fates as they were locked up within the walls of the Suvan capital, began to slay every Suvan citizen in sight, waging a war of atrocity that claimed many innocent lives even before their rage paled in silenced comparison to the one who erupted from within their midst."

Marishka read on as her mind processed every bit of detail which was inscribed into the text, giving her a vivid mental picture of what was about to unfurl. She also knew already what was about to happen, still the book captivated her, rendered her weak as the climax of the single most terrifying event in Mizahar history came to her eyes.

"When the Suvan Emperor decided to execute the Queen of Alahea, he only took note of her trapped armies within his citadel, for this he knew his own could obliterate without question. As the battle raged on, he grinned wildly in devilish pleasure at the bloody melee that was ensuing in the streets. He summoned his aides to clothe him in his finest armor, ready to wade into battle atop a mighty stallion to partake in the bloodletting.

"What he failed to take into account was the identity of Kova's unknown lover, or how impervious this one would be to his army and his steel. It was only when a mountain of fire and fury began to push upwards from the earth beneath them that he became horrified of what he had done. The molten mass of burning hatred eventually shaped into the gigantic form of the god of fire himself, whose eyes stared into Galifer Odalah as he cowered in a corner of his palace with his attendants and concubines, knowing fully what was to come for them."

The pictures in her mind began to grow so powerful that signs of stress in the form of intravenous veins began to appear in her forehead as she read on. Inside her burned a great amount of disdain for the events which transpired five centuries ago, yet she retained the thought of everything that there is in Mizahar at the time was born of the Valterrian. Her lips pursed, and her legs crossed together in anticipation of the evil Emperor's death.

"The monstrous, burning form of the titan let out a roar which shook the very foundations of the earth and heavens, sending ripples of apocalyptic tremors surging forth, bringing down the Suvan capital's exalted walls to the ground. With his eyes still set on the doomed Emperor, both hands flung wildly on either side, which caused the already sundered earth to explode in an orgy of lava and magma. Everything came falling down to the primordial abyss that opened up beneath his encased feet, men, buildings, animals, knowledge, history, civilization. All succumbed to the titanic fury which he unleashed upon the world that day."

"In an instant, Ivak stood alone in the midst of the result of his crushed love for Kova; the glowing embers of a veritable sea of flames which just seconds earlier had been the magnificent capital of a powerful empire."

The breathless Marishka then closed the book between her hands, still in utter disbelief at the horrific version which the rendition had given her. Looking back at her sister once she had composed herself, she twiddled her thumbs in silence, waiting for anything at all to happen. She was sated of her own curiosity to read, even though it had only been a fraction of the considerably large book she had taken.

Even Kidala would be a welcome addition right then and there, just to stir things back up even a little...

Or maybe not.