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Registered: 12-2007
Posts: 80
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School's in. (for.. ever!)

  Lilith hobbled her way along the beaten, trodden path. Her boots were cracked from age, much like her own skin. Time played both fools and wise of all, but she felt the wise, and happier for her chosen years. She'd her woes and her joys, her pleasures and pains. Most of which revolved around the small village of Elwindale... that, and her school.

  The Arcanum was her pride and her folly. She'd aspired to much in it's halls; the teaching of a younger generation. The continuation of knowledge for the good of all. Knowledge was always a means to power and corruption though, just as it could be used to help others, so could it be turned to darker uses.

  She stepped into the cave, a familiar cave, one she'd passed through for many, many decades. Centuries of wear showed on it's rocky walls, just as it showed on her boots, her skin. She was old. She knew her time was shortly upon her, but she did not fear it. If anything, she welcomed it. All things in their place, all places in their time, and all time come for those who've lived their lives.

  Down, down she went, through the tunnels and ways, to the great expansive arena. The floor out of view in the dim, darkness below, but she knew it was there. The floor and her school. She stepped off the ledge overlooking the great gulf of blackness and sank slowly with a whispered word. The magic was all but spent in her, all but gone, yet she welcomed this too. It signified all she'd given in her time. She stood at last before the great doors, strong and sturdy still after all this time. With raised arms and voice, she entreated the school to rise once more, to open it'd gates and fling off the dust of centuries.

   A low, howling wind coursed through the cave, giving voice to that which had no mouth, breath to that which had no lungs. Cold fires lept to being along hallways dark and dusty with disuse. Outside, at the foot of the steps leading upward into the great halls of archaic and arcane knowledge lay the crumpled heap of an old woman. the only stirring of movement from her clothes in the wind. Hours later, a hooded, wraithly being hunched over her, gathering her up. "At last we are together... daughter."


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