[Feeling the presence of the Fade was key for mages. They were always connected to it--working with it, shaping it, molding it, feeling it, being a part of it without really being there. That connection to the Fade was as normal as breathing, it was a presence he’d felt all his life and as a child he never really understood what it was or that other people--people like his mother, father, and sister--couldn’t feel it the way he could. It was like another layer of atmosphere-- something you never really notice the presence of unless there’s too much of it or too little because it’s always, always there, and quite suddenly…it was gone.
It was just a blip. A quick, sharp pull as a flash of blue-white energy envelopes him and the flames that he hadn’t been anywhere close to realizing where licking at his hands vanish, but for a moment as that magic crashes down on him he feels terrifyingly…empty. Hollow in a way he’d never felt before. The Fade was gone. For a second it was gone. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t sense it. His connection had been completely severed and he feels a sickening wave of panic wash over him--fear sticks to the back of his throat, ice cold dread trickles down his back, and it’s not right. It's not right. He struggles to breathe, struggles to think even as that connection comes back and he can hear Taliesin talking, can hear the words he’s saying, hears him admonishing him, but he’s too horrified to really process it.
Because then it gets worse.
Shael has been in the unfortunate position of having drained all of his mana before. He knew how much of a toll it took on his body, how exhausting it was, but this...this was somehow different. More intense, more visceral. The rush of spirit energy that bursts forth from the Inquisitor’s hands quite literally takes his breath away. His eyes widen in terror as all of it--every last bit of mana in his body--is ripped away leaving him completely exhausted, defenseless, and once again at the Inquisitor’s mercy.
The apostate staggers in place, his legs turning to jelly and giving out from under him as he stumbles forward and hits the ground hard on his hands and knees. Too scared to move, Shael stays on the floor--cold sweat running down the back of his neck, his breathing heavy and labored, utterly terrified of what had just been done to him. He swallows thickly, unable to bring himself to look up, but the anger in his voice is gone. It’s softer, wavering with quiet fear.]
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
It was just a blip. A quick, sharp pull as a flash of blue-white energy envelopes him and the flames that he hadn’t been anywhere close to realizing where licking at his hands vanish, but for a moment as that magic crashes down on him he feels terrifyingly…empty. Hollow in a way he’d never felt before. The Fade was gone. For a second it was gone. He couldn’t feel it, couldn’t sense it. His connection had been completely severed and he feels a sickening wave of panic wash over him--fear sticks to the back of his throat, ice cold dread trickles down his back, and it’s not right. It's not right. He struggles to breathe, struggles to think even as that connection comes back and he can hear Taliesin talking, can hear the words he’s saying, hears him admonishing him, but he’s too horrified to really process it.
Because then it gets worse.
Shael has been in the unfortunate position of having drained all of his mana before. He knew how much of a toll it took on his body, how exhausting it was, but this...this was somehow different. More intense, more visceral. The rush of spirit energy that bursts forth from the Inquisitor’s hands quite literally takes his breath away. His eyes widen in terror as all of it--every last bit of mana in his body--is ripped away leaving him completely exhausted, defenseless, and once again at the Inquisitor’s mercy.
The apostate staggers in place, his legs turning to jelly and giving out from under him as he stumbles forward and hits the ground hard on his hands and knees. Too scared to move, Shael stays on the floor--cold sweat running down the back of his neck, his breathing heavy and labored, utterly terrified of what had just been done to him. He swallows thickly, unable to bring himself to look up, but the anger in his voice is gone. It’s softer, wavering with quiet fear.]
What...what did you do to me?