"The flow of Mana is commonly referred to as Magical Leylines. They span the entire Continent, but where does the Mana itself come from?" -Ozohr
The Iridescent Peak.
Ozohr hurries up the mountain, inching closer to the screaming Cosmic Sky.
What was once a breeze is now a howling torrent of stardust. Exposed crystal geodes litter the rocky face as Ozohr approaches the peak.
Shooting pain pierces Ozohr's covered eyes and he falls to his knees. Shards of arcane language and color set his mind ablaze.
"Finally."
Ozohr holds a colorless Orb away from his body, letting the energies of the crashing Leylines seep into the crystalline sphere.
"The Color has been taken. My commission is complete."
The Orb pulses with energy while Ozohr moves to the rendezvous.
Entered by: 0xB2c0…2438
"Magic, in a sense... is the embodiment of the Will of the World itself." -Ozohr
The Rendezvous Point.
The Marble Pillars surround Ozohr as if holding up the night, shielding him from the Leyline conflux outside its circle of protection.
An odd tranquility washes over Ozohr as he ponders the Orb in his fingertips. Tendrils of Iridescent Blue Mana swirl around an impossible point of light in its center.
Before Ozohr can think, a velvet glove with an iron grip appears on his shoulder, accompanied by a whisper in his ear from behind.
"𝕷𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖓𝖔𝖜. 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗, 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖌𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖎𝖙."
Ozohr dared not turn his face towards the messenger of the Colorless Patron, only giving a slight nod.
"𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖇𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘. 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖕𝖆𝖞𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑."
Without another word, the messenger disappears, leaving only a Crimson Envelope in Ozohr's shaking hands, exhaling a sigh of relief.
Entered by: 0xB2c0…2438
