Abor was in a daze. He felt intoxicated and strange and weird and every other word that described otherness. He felt unlike himself; and the strangest part was that the ghosts knew. They asked him how he was, but he had no response for them. Back in his tower from an outing — what had he done? He didn’t know; he thought it involved other people? — Abor couldn’t remain calm. He was panicked and tired. He needed rest, but he knew that no such thing would come.

A familiar whisper in his ear encouraged action, but he banished the whisper. It was too much right now. Whatever it was.

But action was the right idea.

Grabbing hold of his grimoire, Abor turned the pages until he found an incantation which might help. But he kept turning endlessly. There was no such incantation.

Tearing out every page which was worthless to him. Soon, Abor had scoured the entirety of the book. Every page ripped out from the spine. In a fit, Abor threw the book against the wall and yelled.

What was he to do? He asked himself questions galore, but each turned back to the same answer. Rest.

But he couldn’t rest. He tried. Literally. And failed. His body would not let him; it was if some foreign energy was preventing his mind from lowering its guard.

Pacing back and forth, Abor sought a solution to his misery. But he found none until he gave a throw-away glance to the tome he had destroyed.

Something about the destroyed book caught his eye. On the inside of the back and front of the book, and within the spine, Abor caught wind of some drawings or writings. He did not know which, so he picked the book up to investigate. In his hands, he saw that one final spell remained. He had not noticed it before now because the pages of the book had obscured it. Removed, Abor now gleamed the whole incantation in full.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And it was beautiful.

Complex.

Strange.

Perhaps even terrifying.

The spell required immense energy. But that was fine. Abor had that energy. He had been busy placing Siphons everywhere, and even now, had a huge supply of power flowing into his dwelling.

But it was dazzling convoluted. As Abor ‘read’ the spell in his unusual way of reading but not really reading-reading, he knew that even attempting it would take a lot out of him. It would require his undivided attention and steady hand. But that was fine. He needed to do this; sure, Abor did not know if unleashing this spell would cure his angst-ridden mind, but it was worth a shot.

Returning to his magic circle, Abor reviewed the spell once more. Taking in parts of the whole.

As much as he could gather, the incantation appeared to be some kind of spell aimed at breaking a ward or maybe a seal — both? Or perhaps it was used to entrap? At a point in his review, Abor believed that the incantation might do both at once. But he didn’t know how that was possible; how was it possible to both trap and release? It was a contradiction in terms. Furthermore, the radius of the spell was not given. Usually, Abor understood implicity of the range of the spell and how many people or places it would affect. Every spell in the book up to this point had a limited range of effect. This spell, however, did not have a clear indicator of range. It simply lacked any kind of indicator. Abor knew not what that meant.

Taking a deep breath, though, Abor began the long process of preparing the spell. He did not know exactly what would happen when he finished — and if the spell was successful — but he knew a lot was going to change. Not just for him, but for those around him as well.

And then, one final whisper, and this one, Abor understood… It will change for everyone!