Sealed Departure

After completing Reflected Reset, I turned my attention to the next story for my patrons, a fantasy. Having recently redrafted Tumultuous Beginning, I knew I wanted to continue Thobin’s journey. Though I’ve imagined countless scenes involving him, this one was never among them. Yet as I wrote this tale, it strengthened the connection between Thobin and another of my characters. And that’s a storyline I’m eager to explore further, most likely in a future Wattpad series. Stay with me as that thread unfolds.

For now, let’s set the table for this story. The echoes of magic rarely fade quietly, and the whispers of a storm still linger in the air. Threads of intent woven through the stones of the keep bristle as new journeys begin. This tale invites readers to witness a moment that will define Thobin’s life. The breath between destruction and disappearance, where power, consequence, and resolve intertwine.

Within the stone walls of his study, Thobin endures both the storm outside and the aftermath within. The remnants of his magic hang in the air, heavy and unwilling to die. What remains isn’t the clash of power, but the silence that follows it. The reckoning that comes after every act of creation. This is not a tale of triumph or defeat, but of transformation. It captures the fragile instant when knowledge must be hidden and legacy teeters between survival and surrender.

As thunder grumbles beyond shuttered windows and light struggles through the haze, one question lingers. What does a master of arcane craft leave behind when he chooses to depart from the world?

This story stands as a reflection on power. Not the kind that dazzles, but the kind that endures, sealed away and waiting.

Residual magic thrummed through the chamber as Thobin resumed his preparations. Each vibration sent loose parchment fluttering like startled birds. Beyond the shutters, thunder rolled in waves, each one closer than the last. The tower’s defensive spells wavered with every thunderous echo. The storm outside gnawed at his sanctuary like a looming predator.

Thick smoke crept along the walls as rain seeped through the sealed windows. The mage paused as he drew in the floating tome. He clutched it to his chest, extending his free hand to stare at the faint tremor in his fingertips. Though the spell he’d used had faded, residual power still pulsed through his fingers. He clenched his fist and spun to his remaining tomes.

“Vonora should wake on their marble floors soon enough,” he said, his voice tinged with more regret than fear. For an instant, his gaze lingered on the smoke curling around the walls. Thobin thrust a finger at the shattered door leaning against the wall. With a flourish of his fingers, the wooden slab rose and flew back to its home. “Hopefully, the council will avoid interrupting, at least for the moment.”

When he turned, his foot slammed into a chunk of stone. His gaze dropped to the books scattered across the floor. He shook his head as he rushed to his desk, his fingertips tracing frantic patterns. By the time he reached the disheveled surface, the tomes had floated back to their shelves while glistening black ink bled into an expanding puddle.

Ignoring the mess, Thobin rifled through the clutter. Halfway through, he glanced over his shoulder at his books before resuming his dire search.