Arthur's eyes narrowed, and his pulse quickened, a quiet beat drumming like war beneath the controlled stillness of his face. Fedlimid sat before him, trembling violently, the void in his gaze growing wider by the second, black tendrils twisting from his skin like smoke escaping from burning wood. His breath came in shallow rasps, and the dim glow of his hush spell flickered around them.
Without hesitation, Arthur reached inward, invoking Greed in a way he had never dared before. The air around him thickened, pulsing softly with a raw hunger. His fingers flexed, palms upward, inviting the darkness to himself. Slowly at first, then faster, the blackened magicules coiled toward Arthur's outstretched hands, drawn in like iron filings to a lodestone.
Fedlimid jerked, a silent scream caught in his throat. His head snapped up, eyes wide with confusion and panic as Arthur's presence became an anchor amidst the storm within him.
