Scraps (8) The Mage
...Or 'unfinished writing attempts' These mini-episodes were made to let out some pent-up creative steam and to put to paper some products of imagination that are constantly running around in my mind.
The Mage swiftly glided along the dimly lit corridors of the Hall of Secrets, nodding to the few straggling people who were extinguishing the last few torches before returning to the Apprentice Quarters a couple of levels down the temple. The servers then bowed reverently in return, curiously peeking at the sentient creature before them and wondering what It was doing here at this time of night when It was usually at the Enchanter’s Circle. The Mage was not known to be a sociable being, preferring to be left in solitude either at Its quarters at the Circle or watching the world go by at the Watcher’s Den. Although, occasionally, some servers would find It at the Hall of Secrets researching some arcane spells or other, this was the first time that they saw It walking in a hurried way with such a look of worry on Its face for the being did not convey emotions at all – until now.
What they did not know was that ‘The Mage’ had great cause to worry. It had just come back from visiting with the Black Widow who had disturbing news to tell. The Dark Mother was weaving a new web – a future foreseen and long expected but was not supposed to be as tangled. For this was a web like no other, whereas the normal ones were woven in standard, geometrical shapes, this new mesh was giving the Widow a bit of difficulty. She was trying to weave together the threads of a thousand years of dreams from thousands of dreamers from all races in all lands; but what was a simple feat was proving difficult for the ancient one