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I…I think I’m confused.
But no. They had my Annabel, and I had to get her back. The forces of the Dark Lord had driven us from our estate, necessitating our stay at the Northwoods Inn. I was in the midst of plotting our counter-attack when they struck at my very heart: my dearest Annabel. As we sat to our evening meal, Annabel began to eat as I waited and railed against the Dark Legions, as was my custom.
No sooner had the first bite crossed her dear ruby lips than she cried out in pain, clutching her head. As I rose to comfort her, she fell, writhing from her chair. I tried all of the soothing spells I could recount, but none availed. She became still, and I instantly recognized the signs of the Dark Lord’s poisons. There was time yet to save her, though it would require the deep magic, in which I was very much out of practice.
Though it grieved me bitterly to leave the side of my beloved, I scoured our bedchamber. After a moment of searching, I found what I sought: my old black and gnarled wand, given me by my master many years ago. It felt strangely heavy in my hands.
Was it loaded?
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