Sarunara writes

The door slammed and the Silver Hakala made her way to the small, cramped room at the base of her tower that was her official office. She shut the door and snapped her fingers. The room blurred, and suddenly seemed much bigger, and more height seemed to ooze from the walls. In a flash, she was standing in her own, wonderful, private Tor, on the beautiful place she ruled, where not even Skul could bother her without permission. Fexil Plateau.

Staring out the tall windows, she could just see the outline of the Screaming Tower in the gathering dusk. So many tales, she thought. But this is going to have to be private. I’ll dull it down later, but for now, let’s go with one-hundred percent truth.

She pulled up an ebony chair at an ebony desk. Both were trimmed in silver, her special colour, and over the door she now faced hung the ornate crest that belonged to her. A quill crossed a dagger in the shape of a laurel leaf, a potent magical item. Beneath the two lay a paw print, and a ribbon bore her personal motto – ‘Sapientia potestas est.’ Knowledge is power. And here she was, about to give up exclusive rights to every bit of knowledge of every magical or just plain amazing place on her plateau, at her cousin Skul’s request.

Sighing, Sa conjured from thin air a blue-and-silver quill, followed by a blank book, bound in black leather and embossed in silver, obviously. She sent up the witchlight, and wrote.

The End

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