Rune and Rhythm

I chose a spot facing the Cycle. I can't explain why. It felt fitting, and being fitting is critical in sorcery.

I began chewing the leaf, meditating, readying myself. After absorbing all its potency, I spat it out.

Removing my pack, I sat down. I pondered whether the gods might intervene, then decided that if they were observing me, they would have acted the moment I began setting up the spell. It was a peculiar situation, being hidden from their sight while being on their territory.

Facing the Cycle, I mustered my courage.

Procrastination would only make things harder.

I inhaled deeply and initiated the spell.

I grabbed my seldom-used knife, with an ebony handle and inlaid rubies, its thin, dull blade crafted of pure silver. Its value wasn't as much as it appeared, but it did look rather costly.