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The eye of a rock, a small nugget of copper and zinc, and a small vial of nitric acid lay before Ahriman. His rested mind focuses on the spell at hand as he combines the components. Arcane words of power drip from his lips as his hands work intricate symbols in the air, pulling at the strings of the Weave. 'Hadavi' he calls. In his mind, images rush through his mind of her pale complextion, the features of her face, her voice, and the thought of her usual black dress from his multiple encounters with the being. Leaning in, he slowly opens his eyes and looks deep into the polished mirror before him as the images swirl within.
