Afanas & Senka

392 AC - I open my eyes and contemplate my creation, letting out a long breath to dissipate the rest of the Mana stirring within me. The circle of standing stones still emits an amethyst glow as it anchors itself in the world, thanks to the Mana that Senka brought back from the Tumult. I stand up, cracking my back as purple lightning flashes all around. This place certainly crackles with magic and power, a maelstrom of fleeting ideas captured by the node I've just created. I place a hand on the surface of a menhir. The purple-tinted stone has taken on an organic texture, a knotty mass of grooves and striations intertwining like fibers and ligaments. All around, complex geoglyphs and fragile cairns provide the finishing touches to my arcane creation, which other Initiates can freely use when they reach this place.

I hold out my hand and Senka lands on my arm, digging its claws into my flesh. It pierces my skin with its beak and drinks the blood that seeps out. This is my offering for the help it has given me. I grit my teeth and let it lap up my vital fluid. That's enough. My nighthawk takes flight while I materialize a strip of fabric around my wounds, which is immediately stained red. Like a shadow, Senka soars above the site. Like a bird of prey, it chases down ideas, catching them on the wing and swallowing them like common mice. And for a brief moment, anxiety bubbles to the surface of my mind. Each time we advance, I watch it grow stronger and stronger. Its wings grow larger, just like the night within it. I need it to grow, but is it wise to let it gorge itself like this?