One Night, In A Certain Tower...
The ink at the tip of Finneas' quill was long dry. Idle blotches and drips scattered around the top of the parchment of a would-be letter he attempted to pen an hour ago. Recent months were filled with discoveries beyond his wildest dreams, yet in these desperate moments the troubled mage couldn't find the words.
Silence was a rare gift in the tower these days. The absence of the whirring drone of aetheric portals to the Beyond made him uneasy. Down the crisscrossing stairs and corridors of the magical tower Finneas called home, Faust was sound asleep for the first time in days.
Discovering that the threads of reality were not as tightly woven as once believed by all who came before them was proving to be a challenge in ways he could never have expected.
He believed they'd found precious, delicate truth.
His darker half believed they'd found power. Horrifying, tremendous power.
What little candlelight remained was scarcely enough to keep the darkness at bay. This unwritten letter was meant for the other truth he'd discovered in the Beyond. The fact that without their beloved Weaver this beautiful tapestry of magic and mischief the trio created together was doomed to fray and unravel in ways that would have dire consequences.
In the end, the parchment was bare and untouched, spare for the freckles of ink left behind like teardrops of the very darkness he sought to restrain.
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