The mage's apprentice slowly lifted the rubble slab from the ground, a sick feeling flowing over her. She knew even before the slab was fully off the makeshift hole that her master was dead. The smell of death was heavy, but it only grew heavier with each movement she made to lift the slab. Finally, she dropped it on the dirt, a puff of dust flying up.
She stared down at the body. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but certainly not the great mage of Navtov crumpled below the flung section of his tower.
She was alone.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
