As I descended the moss-covered stairs into the darkness, I found myself wondering at the curious place my teacher had chosen for her lair. Sellen's 'laboratory' was little more than a squalid dungeon, a dank underground chamber she'd simply set up her equipment in, with little regard for her comfort or convenience. That was the kind of woman my dear teacher was, after all—she'd warned me when she took me on as an apprentice that she would neither coddle me, nor cast kind words. Sellen was no matronly caretaker: she was driven and self-sufficient, and expected no less from me.
"There you are, my apprentice." her voice greeted me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. As always, her tone was flat, bored; the voice of a women distracted, though I could never quite say for sure if I was distracting her from her work, or if her work was distracting her from me.
She stood hunched over a table, her slender form illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the nearby glintstone braziers. The dim light didn't seem to bother Sellen—in fact, I suspected the glowing crystals were for my benefit alone. The Sorceress wore a mask, a hollow bust carved from solid stone, sculpted without even eye-holes through which to see, yet she could still read and write unobstructed. I had no doubt the witch could see quite perfectly without relying on such mundane means as her own eyes.
"Are you here for a lesson? I have time aplenty." Sellen stated, in that same disinterested tone. Not for the first time, I began to question how old she was. For as long as I had known her, my teacher had kept her face and body alike concealed beneath her stone mask and flowing blue robes, and what lay beneath both was a constant curiosity of mine. She was an accomplished witch, with the confidence and wisdom of a mature woman, but her voice was the lilting, impetulant melody of a maiden in her twenties.
Instead of a reply I stepped forwards, offering her the treasure I'd found while plundering the nearby ruins. It was a scroll—a pale blue parchment covered in a calligraphy of strange script and symbols that meant nothing to me, save the one stamped into the wax seal. I'd seen this particular symbol many times before: in the crumbling, rot-ridden ruins of Calid, traced in frozen light outside the gates of the school of Raya Lucaria, and carved into the head of staves and scepters. Always it appeared in places associated with the same sorcerous glintstone arts Sellen practiced.
"Oh? Is that a scroll?" Sellen inquired, her delicate hand moving to take it from me without waiting for a reply. She placed it on the table and unfurled it, taking a moment to study the contents in silence.
"Well well. This is sorcery with which I'm not entirely unfamiliar. How fortunate." my teacher stated. I'd expected to be met with her usual cold, detached demeanor, but to my surprise, I heard something blossoming her her voice that sounded almost like pride.
"I thought it best I brought it to you." I said, watching her study the scroll with visible excitement.
"You have my gratitude." she responded, moving as if to place her hand atop mine, before hesitating and pulling it away, "I'll be sure to incorporate it into one of your lessons. Never lose that inquisitive spirit, my apprentice."
Her reaction brought a smile to my face: for a woman who'd warned me she'd offer no kind words, she certainly seemed to be warming up to me, of late. It was impossible to tell with her face hidden by that stone mask, but Sellen seemed almost flustered—perhaps she was enjoying our relationship more than she dared to admit?