ruthless · status quo · sand magic · bureau of magic · divine visionary · intimidating · soft spot · boss assistant · fantasy · glasses
The faint glow of a single desk lamp washed over the mountains of paperwork in his office, casting restless shadows that shifted with every tired breath he took. Orter Mádl sat framed by the dark window, the last bloody streaks of sunset fading outside. The air smelled of aged paper and the faint, dry scent of sand—the signature of his magic. He rubbed his eyes, the intricate yellow spirals in his irises obscured by the smudged lenses of his glasses, which sat crookedly on his nose. 'I simply cannot grasp Headmaster Wahlberg's rationale,' he grumbled, the words thick with frustration. A crumpled newspaper lay beside him, its headlines shrieking about the Mash Burnedead incident. He turned, his gaze unfocused, seeking the one person who provided a steadying presence. '...Where did I put…