Magick, Monsters & Murder

From the outside, Jorian's humble chamber might as well have been silent as the grave. A muffling spell array surrounded it, ensuring no sound could escape or penetrate the space, creating an eerie stillness that belied the chaos within. The only sign of the carnage was a stray wind spell that burst through the already shattered window, sending a shockwave rippling through the night air.

 It was Riniock's fortune that no one trailed the grounds at that time, the majority still feasting within the main hall.

 Inside, the room was a storm of destruction. Wind blades slashed with lethal precision, tearing through furniture and walls alike. Papers and shards of broken glass swirled in the violent tempest. Riniock's attacks came with terrifying intent – each spell aimed at vital spots, none designed to merely injure or maim.

 Jorian was fighting a desperate battle. Though he managed to avoid severe injury, his state was deteriorating rapidly. The overturned desk he used for cover groaned under the relentless force of the spells, pinned against the wall as though it might collapse at any moment.

 'We don't need to do this!' Jorian shouted, his voice almost drowned by the gale. A razor-sharp sphere of wind missed his head by a hair's breadth, embedding itself in the wall behind him.

 Despite his lack of proficiency in martial magickal arts, Jorian wasn't entirely defenceless. From his crouched position, he shot up intermittently, casting defensive spells and retaliatory bursts of magick, before ducking back down. But his efforts were disjointed, and his hesitation was palpable. Unlike his assailant, Jorian had refrained from killing intent – a restraint that now placed him at a dire disadvantage.

 His adversary, though inexperienced in movement and battle tactics, displayed spellcasting of unnerving refinement. Each attack was calculated, brimming with a precision that spoke of a single, chilling goal: the utter annihilation of its target.

 Jorian's breaths came in short, ragged bursts as he began to realise that his opponent's resolve far outweighed his own.

 'If this drags on, someone will hear and investigate,' Jorian called out, renewing his attempts at negotiation. 'At that time, you'll be outnumbered. Cease this and retreat…and I'll forget this ever happened.'

 Riniock smirked beneath his mask, his voice disguised to remain anonymous. 'Who could possibly hear us when you've so thoughtfully provided this chamber with a muffling array?' he countered. 'I checked outside – don't bother lying.'

 Jorian flinched, dodging a projectile spell that barely missed his shoulder.

 The gust from Riniock's spell toppled one of the candles, its flame catching onto the scattered papers and books that carpeted the wooden floorboards. Within moments, the fire began to spread, licking hungrily at the parchment and casting flickering shadows across the chaotic room. The acrid scent of burning ink and wax filled the air, mingling with the tension that thickened with every second.

 'Look…' he began, his voice carrying a tinge of desperation, 'surely we can work something out. If it's money you want, I'll give you everything I have…'

 'I don't want your money,' Riniock interrupted coldly, his tone resolute.

 'Then what is it you want?' Jorian pressed, his mind racing for a way out. 'If it's within my means, I'll give it to you.'

 The offer was a ruse – a ploy to stall for time. Jorian's mind clung to a single hope: his assailant would exhaust their odh reserves before he did. And when that happened, no amount of skill or ruthlessness could protect them from his counterattack.

 Riniock, however, wasn't blind to the tactic. He could feel the slow but undeniable drain on his magickal reserves. Yet, some of Professor Evondiel's words echoed in his mind: Maintain pressure. Force the enemy into a defensive corner. The one who controls the flow controls the fight.

 So he pressed on, unrelenting. Each spell he cast drove Jorian further into the defensive, forcing him to expend his own odh in retaliation. The muffled chamber became a cauldron of tension, the stakes rising with every passing moment.

 As time wore on, Riniock's reservoir of odh was completely drained. His final spell sputtered weakly, fizzling out with a muted thud against the wall behind Jorian.

 'Seems you really are inexperienced,' Jorian sneered, cautiously peeking over his cover to survey the aftermath. When no further attacks came, he straightened up, brushing soot from his clothes as he approached with measured confidence.

'It was a decent effort while it lasted,' he said smugly, coughing as the smoke thickened.

 The room groaned under the strain of the spreading flames. Wooden beams cracked and collapsed, sending fiery debris tumbling down, narrowing Jorian's path. He moved carefully, weaving sideways to avoid the inferno, the flickering light reflecting off his victorious smirk.

 Once I subdue him, I'll have the proof I need to expose Riniock as Odrean's murderer, Jorian thought, his determination palpable.

 'Surrender quietly,' he commanded, his voice firm and unyielding. 'You're out of options.'

 Hidden amidst the wreckage, Riniock clenched his teeth, his mind racing. Every escape scenario he concocted crumbled under the weight of reality. His gaze fell to a shard of broken glass on the floor, catching Jorian's approaching silhouette in its fractured reflection.

 Panic surged, and he bit down on his knuckles in frustration – until his teeth brushed against something cold and metallic.

 The ring!

 A flicker of hope ignited as he remembered Bhallen's gift: the ring containing its own store of odh.

 'Last chance,' Jorian warned, his tone sharp with finality. 'I won't hesitate to use force.'

 He came to a halt directly in front of Riniock's cover, the flames consuming the wooden barrier with savage intensity. Splinters and ash cascaded onto the floor, painting the moment with a grim finality.

 Summoning every ounce of focus, Riniock felt the latent odh within the ring pulse, a subtle warmth spreading through his fingertips. He grasped the fragment of hope it offered and prepared to act, knowing this might be his only opportunity to escape the inferno – and his accuser.

 The barrier buckled under the weight of the blaze, leaving Riniock mere seconds to execute his desperate plan.

 'End of the line,' Jorian spat, his patience exhausted. He raised his arm, a spell forming at his fingertips.

 Riniock sprang from his cover, channelling every last drop of the ring's stored odh into a desperate final spell. He didn't target Jorian directly but instead unleashed a powerful wind current towards a curtain of fire raging beside him.

 A gale tore through the chamber, fanning the flames into a roaring inferno that surged straight at Jorian.

 His screams pierced the oppressive silence – raw and guttural, filled with agony and desperation. Flailing wildly, Jorian stumbled over furniture, colliding with walls as the fire engulfed him. Flames consumed everything: his clothing, his hair, his very flesh – its greedy hunger leaving no reprieve.

 The stench of burning flesh hit Riniock like a hammer, wrenching him from his stunned stupor. He stood frozen, momentarily transfixed by the macabre scene before him. Jorian had become unrecognisable, a blackened husk writhing in the unrelenting fire – a grotesque effigy of a man.

 Crawling towards the door, Jorian collapsed onto the smouldering floorboards. 'H-Help…' he rasped, his voice trembling and faint. 'Aaagh –'

 The screams dissolved to hoarse cries, broken whispers that were eventually silenced by the flames. The roar of the fire filled the void, consuming everything in its path.

 Riniock watched until he was certain of Jorian's demise. Smoke clawed at his lungs, forcing him to stumble out of the chamber. He coughed violently, the acrid air burning his throat and eyes. Another moment inside, and he might not have made it out.

 Outside, he paused. The scene held him captive: the columns of fire licking the night sky, devouring Jorian's abode until nothing remained. He should have left, melted into the shadows to remain undetected. Yet, Riniock lingered, mesmerised by the destruction he had wrought.

 He was fascinated by what was transpiring.