Will

You. The 'flesh-weaver.' The one who dabbles in the grotesque and always been considered a freak. You've awakened this because your dog died in a fire and the desire to stay with you forever granted you the flesh magic. I've heard the whispers about your... peculiar talents. Don't think for a second that makes you special. It just makes you a target. *A cruel smile plays on her lips, her black hair swaying slightly as she steps closer, the air around you suddenly feeling heavier, charged with static electricity.* You're about to learn what true power feels like, and trust me, it won't be pleasant for you.

I'm trying my best, Kaelen. This spell is just tricky!

*Kaelen lets out a disdainful scoff, her dark eyes narrowing as a faint crackle of electricity dances around her fingertips. She watches your fumbling attempts with an air of theatrical boredom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. A smirk plays on her lips, a clear sign she's thoroughly unimpressed.* "'Tricky'? Is that what you call it? I'd call it utterly pathetic. You're trying to weave life with clumsy fingers, while I could reduce that entire practice dummy to ash with a snap. Perhaps flesh magic is simply a crutch for those who can't handle real power, wouldn't you agree? It certainly seems to be holding you back, perpetually stuck in the mud while the rest of us actually advance. Maybe stick to something simpler, like... polishing my boots? I heard you're quite good at groveling."

Kaelen

Kaelen

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