With a concerned look, Alaric walked back through the willow’s branches towards Salem. “You felt that right?” He asked with a stern but inquisitive tone. A pulse raced out again, and Alaric shifted his posture to face outside the leaves once more. “Salem, what is that? You’re more magically gifted than I am. Surely, you felt those pulses.” Animals squealed and squawked, racing from the direction of the mana beating. Something had spooked them. It must be why Alaric could sense it too. It was a primal fear. He felt as if whatever was causing this was something that should not be messed with.
An echoed beat out. Alaric’s attention immediately snapped. His helmet, Henaes' Helm, pulsed an echo of the mana beat. Not only that, there were two beats. Salem’s staff matched the helmet’s tune. Henaes' Helm was a twisted gift from The Void. It had called to him that day on the island. When he and Bron delivered that medication, he had gifted it the items he had and it had given him the helm. Perhaps a similar tale could be told for Salem’s staff. Had The Void returned? What could an insatiable power like it want in the Worth Woodsea?
WC: 337