Lord Thane's boots scuffed softly against the floor as he paced, his mind a storm of focus and hunger.
The Second Technique, elusive, forbidden, a whispered legend among the practitioners of the Arcane Arts, had consumed him for months.
It wasn't just a spell or a skill; it was a force, a current of raw, chaotic energy that could bend reality itself. But to wield it, he needed more than discipline or study.
"To master the second one, I need to fill myself with perverse energy," he said, his voice low, almost a growl, the words heavy with intent. He stopped pacing, his gray-gold eyes narrowing as they landed on her.
A lady, Roseline was sprawled out, half-covered by a thin sheet that did little to hide the curves of her body. She was fast asleep, her breathing soft and even, her face peaceful in a way that made Thane smile slightly.
