Treznor hated the stifling heat, the flies, the blinding white and tacky gold decorations of the palace of Ovierón. He hated scraping and bowing to the King and his sycophants, while he sat on that monstrosity he called a throne with that smirk on his face.

Such fools.

They thought themselves the warriors of Aslanor fulfilling their divine duty and him a prophet of their god. A few simple illusions, created by the powers bestowed by his Master, and they were wrapped around his finger. Why; the current King had killed his own brother and slaughtered his family at sorcerer's insidious whispers. Truth be told he hadn't needed much prodding in the first place. Now they pestered him incessantly for 'divine guidance'.

Oh how dearly the sorcerer wished he could set fire to the whole palace and watch them all burn; slowly and in exquisite agony. Treznor knew the King was too clever to be completely convinced that his powers came from their patron god but he had simply used him and the church to get the throne of Ixila. But his Master had plans for the new king and his kingdom.

Treznor threw off the sheets and sat at the side of his bed. He was loath to leave it but if Silas had not contacted him yet, he had failed. And the Master needed to be informed of his failure. The fact that the blood-mage had not made contact yet meant he was dead, which was not possible despite Silas being the weakest amongst the servants of his Master, or more likely he had tucked his tail between his legs and ran. Treznor looked forward to the punishment the blood-mage would face, their Master was anything but merciful.

Finally pushing off the cool, soft mattress he strode over to his fallen robe and put it on. He glanced back at the curve of fair skin in the rumpled sheets and smirked, despite all the hardships of his position, it did come with some benefits.

Treznor made his way to the study and pulled a book off the shelf on the far side of the room. Hidden machinery vibrated beneath the carpeted floor as the wall slid apart to reveal a tight spiraling staircase that led underground. He conjured a light from his palm and made his way down the steps. The sorcerer reached the hidden chamber at the bottom and pressed his silver medallion into an indentation in the wall. Runes lit up, covering the entire room and the sorcerer stepped onto the circular platform created by the glowing path traced along the floor by the runes.

A shadow covered him and suddenly he was in a much different place. The sorcerer was in the dark halls of a ruined palace which were frozen and covered in several sheets of ice. Snow blew through most of the corridors, having breached the paneless windows and broken doors. Despite this Treznor did not feel the bite of cold upon his skin, for it was only a projection. He reached out to touch a stone feeling his hand phase through the material. So very realistic.

He walked through the stone and masonry which soon gave way to jagged rock, as the sorcerer entered the depths of his Master’s lair. He came to a stop once he reached a cavern the size of the main hall of the royal palace. Thirteen shimmering pools of water surrounded him, some on the floor, some on the roof and others climbing the walls. The water looked to be made from the purest of crystals, setting the cavern alight.

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The shadows from the light of the pool soon coalesced into a shadowy face with tendrils piercing through each of the pools. No features could be made out from the ever-shifting smoke, not that Treznor dared do so. He fell to his knees with his eyes on the ground.

A booming voice echoed through the cavern and pierced through the sorcerer's soul, "Speak"

He could feel the power across the immense distance separating them. This was real power. He relished in the feeling of his Master's power for a slight moment before looking up, "I come with unfortunate news Master. Silas has failed you. He has lost the Dragonstone and has not contacted me on the agreed time."

"We know of his failure," the shadow conjured a hand with a small, struggling red flame trapped in its palm, "We have recovered his soul."

Treznor gulped at the sight, even death would not free him from his service to his Master. But then he remembered the feeling of his Master's gift flowing through his veins. The sorcerer never regretted his decision.

The hand disappeared once more, and the face continued speaking, "All is not lost. We have recorded the resonance of the orb."

A sharp pain pierced through Treznor's soul and new information poured into his mind, "You will send your pawns to infiltrate Eidunn and search for the Stone with the help of the resonance."

The sorcerer struggled to stay on his knees as the pain preceded. Between gasping breaths, he managed to reply, "Your command will be carried out without fail Master."

The face did not deign to reply, it dissolved into the shadows and the sorcerer felt his link break. He was back in the hidden chamber. Rubbing his forehead he set out to climb the steps, planning on how he would go about building the intricate device, whose plans his Master had shoved into his brain.

Lost in thought he reached the open bookcase,

"There you are darling, I was worried when you weren't there beside me when I woke up."

The sorcerer was startled at the voice. He looked and noticed a woman standing there half-dressed in a robe. She had shiny curls of chestnut in slight disarray that shielded her chest, smooth alabaster skin, long dark lashes that hid amber eyes. She looked behind Treznor with sultry eyes, "A hidden room. How exciting..." she walked towards him and placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him with a suggestive smile, "do you have any toys hidden down there?"

Treznor looked at her and sighed in regret, as fast as a viper he clutched her neck and strangled her, "Why did you have to get up and follow me here?"

The woman was unable to reply through her desperate gasping for air. Eyes bulging, she clawed at the sorcerer's arms, her decorated nails breaking against his skin without drawing even the slightest mark.

As Treznor watched the life drain out of her he sighed once more, "What a pity."

He had become quite fond of her. As her struggle ceased, he tossed aside the corpse and made his way into the bedroom in search of presentable clothes. He'd be busy for quite some time, he needed to visit the artificers guild first and create the trackers and then somehow manage to sneak them into the Eidunn empire. Shaking his head at the increased work and the loss of his toy, Treznor sighed once more.