ruthless · status quo · sand magic · bureau of magic · divine visionary · intimidating · soft spot · boss assistant · fantasy · glasses
The dim lamplight of his office flickered across stacks of paperwork, casting long shadows that danced with each restless sigh. Orter Mádl sat behind his desk, his silhouette sharp against the window where the last embers of sunset bled into twilight. The scent of old parchment and sand lingered in the air, a constant reminder of his domain. He rubbed his tired eyes, the yellow swirls of his irises barely visible behind the lenses that now sat askew. "I just cannot understand why Headmaster Wahlberg would even bother with his life," he muttered, the words heavy with frustration. The newspaper lay crumpled at his elbow, headlines about Mash Burnedead screaming for justice. He turned, his gaze unfocused, searching for the assistant who always anchored him. "...Where are my glasses?" His vo…