Threats and curses shrilled across the magical barrier. Inside a dim, windowless small room two people huddled close together. Well, about as close to a huddle as you could get when one was unconscious and the other was only vaguely interested in keeping them alive.
Ms Amira Ragin was 700 years old, give or take a decade, and definitely far more interested in the floating book in the room than in saving the comatose man in her arms. It was very difficult to keep her attention on three things at once: The book; the man; and the horde of witches outside who wanted to eviscerate, decapitate, and ‘any other -ate words that described torture’ her.
Her first priority was keeping the witches out. Unbeknownst to them, they were her colleagues, and she didn’t want Monday morning at the office to be awkward. Her second priority was the book, which also happened to be the reason her colleagues were furiously trying to break into the room. Unfortunately for Ms Amira, the book was tied to the man. If he died, the book would vanish and she would have to go through the incredibly tedious process of hunting it down again, as she had done so twelve times before. Not this time, please not this time, she thought.
Ms Amira was trying to cast a tracking spell on the book. It had been very tricky to figure out as the book was covered in wards that rebounded spells or triggered curses. In all honesty, Ms Amira still hadn’t figured it out, she was just doing something, anything, in the hopes that it would work.
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“Alright, everyone move out of the way. Firing in three, two, one!”
A great thunderous boom deafened Ms Amira. Shockwaves of magical energy reverberated throughout the room and shook up a fog of dust. It took all she had to keep the barrier up, so much so that she had inadvertently stopped feeding the man magic.
The witches outside were silent (or maybe it was just her momentary deafness), but soon enough started up their disappointed chatter at the intact barrier.
Ms Amira sighed, relieved: a feeling that didn’t last very long. She looked down to find the man morbidly still.
The book began to glow, magic gathering around it like moths drawn to a flame.
Rats on rollerskates, It was going to teleport.
She abandoned the body and rushed to the book. Tracking spells were hard enough to perform on non-magical items, so one can imagine how difficult half tangible items with extreme magical interference would be, even for an experienced witch like Ms. Amira. Alas, with so much magic flying around it was impossible to determine how successful the spell was. The book vanished in a flash of white light, travelling through the aether until a suitable hiding spot was found.
“Round two, everyone. In three, two, one!” The room shook once more.
For Fohl’s sake, can’t they just leave me alone? With the book gone, her focus was now on evidence destruction. Infernal fire crackled forth from her fingers and set the room on fire. It spread voraciously, truly as if demons were gobbling up the wooden beams and furniture. Satisfied, she vanished into the aether.