Spells·Arcane
School of Magic
The Lettered Void - Force, ward, and the geometry beneath thought.
One bolt is a warning. Three is punctuation.
The best armor is the kind they can't see.
The world hums. You listen.
The blow lands. The shield was already there.
Locked. The key is a word only you know.
Is it real? Touch it and find out.
Small. Tireless. Yours.
The words wait. Only the right voice wakes them.
A thought made visible. It goes where you look.
The bolt doesn't just hit. It lingers.
You're still here. They just forgot.
Your mind is not a door. It is a wall.
Up. Just up. The rest is your problem.
Which one are you? Wrong answer.
There's nothing there. Try walking through it.
A gift. Unwrap at your own risk.
Gravity is a suggestion. You politely decline.
Every lock has a key. You just brought a louder one.
The mystery ends. The answers were always there.
The magic was impressive. Was.
The shockwave starts where you're standing. Be somewhere else.
They cast. You disagree.
The invisible is only invisible to those who aren't looking properly.
The cage has no bars. It doesn't need them.
It runs like the wind. It is the wind.
The armor you can't see is the armor they can't break.
You're staying. Right here.
Your eye is over there. You are over here. Both are watching.
Hit them. Stay hidden. Hit them again.
The sphere drifts. Slowly. Inevitably.
If this happens, then that happens. You planned for everything.
You were here. Now you're there. The space between is a technicality.
The Arcanum giveth. You taketh away.
A hair-thin line of light. What it touches, it splits.
They swung. Time disagreed.
Three points of light in the dark. You see everything. They see nothing.
Pure force given form. It doesn't burn. It doesn't freeze. It simply is.
The air tightens. The ground holds. Nobody leaves.
The Arcanum holds its breath. Nothing speaks.
Two doors. One shortcut. Reality politely steps aside.
They were here. Now they're somewhere that doesn't have a name. They'll be back. Eventually.
The slate is wiped. Every enchantment, every ward, every trick - gone.
The journey home is one spell long.
Layer by layer. There will be nothing left.
You stop looking. You start seeing. Everything.
The ground is optional. For now.
You ask. The Arcanum considers. Reality adjusts.