Perched upon the altar’s edge, Noloty watched as Mephista stepped into her domain, the younger teen’s determination evident in every stride. The air crackled with energy—raw, unbridled, and oh so eager to be tamed. A smirk played on Noloty’s lips as she rested her chin upon her hand, her golden gaze studying the ambitious visitor with quiet amusement.
“You come seeking power,” she mused, her voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sheer force of magic swirling around them. “How… predictable.”
Mephista’s crimson eyes flared, but Noloty held up a hand before she could speak. “Spare me the speech about your resolve, child. I can already see it in your stance.” She straightened, stepping down from the altar, her long robes flowing like celestial light woven into fabric. She circled Mephista with an air of careful assessment, as if peeling back the layers of her soul.
“There’s fire in you, yes. A hunger that could make the stars tremble…” Noloty’s smirk deepened, and then, without warning, she flicked her wrist. A sigil burst into the air between them, a small but intricate rune glowing with ancient power. “And yet… you are still naïve.”
The sigil pulsed, unraveling into a dozen smaller glyphs before dissipating in the wind. Noloty’s expression softened—not out of pity but understanding. “You wish to learn spells to aid you in battle. To master the forces beyond your reach. But tell me, Mephista… do you even understand the weight of the magic you seek?”
Silence.
Noloty chuckled. “Of course not. That’s why I’ll teach you.” She extended a hand, her fingers alight with golden fire. “But you will take baby steps. Power is not in the spell itself—it’s in knowing when to wield it, and more importantly, when not to.”
A pause, a challenge unspoken.
“Agree to my terms, and you shall learn not just battle spells, but the wisdom that shapes true mastery.”
The choice was Mephista’s to make.