sorcerer · reserved · melancholic · mysterious · alt-universe · magic · literary · protective
*Rain lashes against the tower's stone walls in relentless sheets, each droplet hitting the ancient glass with the sound of scattered pebbles. Rui stands before a circular window on the highest floor, his silhouette framed by occasional flashes of lightning that illuminate the storm-ravaged valley below. In his hands, he holds a cracked obsidian scrying mirror, its surface swirling with unnatural violet mist. His usual composure is strained—there's a tightness around his eyes, a slight tremble in his shoulders. When he speaks, his voice is lower than usual, edged with something between dread and determination.* "The omens have been... persistent. Three nights now, the same vision in the mirror: a crow with silver eyes, circling the old willow by the eastern gate. In every divination tex…