Culuril's Strixhaven Adventure

When Chiehry takes the moment to investigate the mural, she notices not only the squirrel but also a painted bird in one of the branches that seems to tilt its head to regard her for a moment. The roots of the tree also seem to move slowly over time.  But this is all taken in quickly as her attention turns towards the Hall of Oracles. Myala rapidly snaps out of her fascination with the mural and quickly follows. "Oh yes! Let us have a look at this snarl."  

And while Kadyr seems quite interested in the magically animated painting, he too follows eventually. "Hey, don't forget me!" 

You pass a second information desk as you enter the larger part of the proper part of the library, the group passes study tables stretching both to their left and right. At the moment it seems less than a dozen students are seated at them. As you approach the circular hall, there is an open entrance flanked by tall columns.  Rows up rows of bookshelves spread out on either side of the hall.  

Inside, the room is lit only from a pulsing ball of magical energy, floating at the center of the space.  The space is filled with numerous statues, but it is that snarl of energy that attracts attention. A stream of energy flows from the bottom of the ball, seeming to pool in an immense shallow bowl sitting in the middle of the floor.  There are only a couple of pairs of people here at the moment, giving the place a sense of monumental silence. 

Before they go, Arinchu gives Guardok a smile and a nod. "I hope to do the same with Prismari. In due time of course. Dance and the elements, I think it would be perfect form of expression." 

The layering of arcane mana in Wagadu — what they call spirit energy — is a complex jumble of transparent force that defies explanation and must be intuited to be understood. Yes, mathematics touches its fringes like fingers on silk. But here. This. It is overwhelming. Strixhaven exists within the silken gown, wearing it lightly and feeling the fabric’s airy friction on its skin. And like steel armor. And like nakedness. Too many conflicting sensations to name. 

Chierhy exchanges glances with both Myala and Kadyr, not smiling as much as sharing this awestruck moment. ‘Is this real?,’ her eyes ask.

Then turning, as if in a dream, back to the snarl, unaware of her own actions, her face rippling between beatitude and numb terror, Chierhy moves step by slow step toward the center.

As the energy washes over her, the words of her mentor echo in the distance of her mind. ‘Take care with rogue spirit energy. It exists between worlds, is fickle, obeys no laws and cannot be quantified or understood with numbers.’

She hears this again as a memory, but the wash of mana is intoxicating, overwhelming her reticence. The Wagaduan’s stomach lurches vertiginously with fear but also with joy, and she feels like a tree branch whipped back and forth in the furious grip of a typhoon.

Lost in this whitewater rapids of emotion and interest, Chierhy stands close to the snarl, eyes softly closed, head tilted back, as if inhaling the fragrance of an enchanted forest, relaxed and closed within her own world of timeless proximity to the unfathomable.