Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Her words rang in Jaegar's ears. He was lying on the ground with a few of apprentices of the witch's spire around him. Evanore was focused on Mara, who stood with them.

With those enigmatic words, Mara signalled her departure, a departure that promised the looming potential for future encounters, leaving the council to contemplate.

Concealed in a hidden vantage point, a group of her men observed the intense conflict unfold. Upon its conclusion, they emerged from their cover, opting to align themselves with Mara and accompany her.

Yasmine and her council of witches, despite the theft of the tome from the spire, refrained from intervening or apprehending Mara. The reason lay in their assessment of Mara's unparalleled power and the perceived risks of challenging her; her reputation as the supreme swordswoman and her immense dark energy rendered any confrontation a perilous endeavour.

Mara and her cohort departed from the scene, leaving a considerable distance between them and the place where the night's events transpired.

As they walked, Mara tended to the wound on her chest, binding it with a cloth to staunch the bleeding.

Inquiring about the coveted book, "Did you get the book?" she directed her attention to Tompkin, who was jolted by her query. Then he confessed, scratching his head, and said, "Noonim, that brat, had taken it from me, and I forgot after you started fighting him."

Mara's glare met his admission, followed by a resigned sigh.

Turning to Ranalf, who sported a mischievous grin, Mara asked, "Do you have it?" She knew he had it. He managed to take what they needed during the scuffle.

The tome was already with Evanore, as she got it from Jaegar. Before the fight began, he had given it to them.

With a wry gesture, Ranalf raised an old, tattered page torn from the tome. Although weathered and torn, this remnant elicited smiles from the group, prompting Tompkin to curse Ranalf for the oversight.

"We've acquired what we came for. Let's depart," Mara declared, signalling the conclusion of their business at the spire. With that, Mara and her group took their leave, departing from the scene.

*

Jaegar lay sprawled on the ground, his form weakened and drained from the significant loss of blood.

Yasmine, her gaze fixed on the spot where Mara and her cohort had departed, surveyed the aftermath of the confrontation. Her eyes shifted to the battleground, where the remnants of the intense battle were starkly visible.

The entrance to the forest lay exposed, a fraction of the woodland seemingly sliced away, leaving the ground fragmented and cracked—a testament to the raw power that had surged through the area during the clash.

The once lush and vibrant foliage now lay trampled and lifeless, crushed under the weight of the combatants' relentless onslaught. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of burnt earth and lingering traces of magic, serving as a haunting reminder of the fierce struggle that had taken place.

Mara's powerful sword aura had indelibly scarred the ground, leaving deep gouges and shattered fissures that marked the forest floor. The aftermath bore witness to the sheer ferocity of her abilities, evident in the ravaged terrain she left in her wake. The depth and scale of destruction portrayed her as an unstoppable force, capable of slashing through everything in her path.

She truly deserved the title of Blade mistress, even she could tell that those sword marks on the ground and the stone were still oozed with her potent aura.

With a lingering gaze, Yasmine directed her attention to the young man lying defenceless on the ground.

Though he had valiantly faced her, she perceived him as a mere apprentice wizard from the academy. Despite his bravery, it was apparent that he was just a teenager, having weathered the encounter but not without injury. Sensing his vulnerability, Yasmine commanded the women accompanying her to bring him to the spire for aid.

Meanwhile, Yasmine and the rest of the witches, following their return to the spire, discovered that Evanore had safeguarded the tome in its original place. Jaegar had given it to her before he started fighting her.

Further investigation revealed a startling revelation: an aide among the spire witches had conspired with the thief, providing crucial information about the tome's being brought to the library.

This knowledge presented an opportunity for the perpetrator to seize the book, as the security chambers housing the tome lay beyond the council's quarters, necessitating their permission for access. Exploiting this vulnerability, they orchestrated the theft when the book was momentarily relocated.

They had allowed the matter to leak out, the journalists would jump on the news regarding the spire, and they had taken care of it, not attracting the attention of those news enthusiasts.

Now in the infirmary of the spire,

Jaegar's eyes snapped open, a sudden jolt coursing through him as if he had encountered the looming, colossal, red-faced entity he faced as if it appeared right in front of his face.

He looked at his front, there was nothing, and to the sides too.

He found himself lying in a bed within a room that bore a striking resemblance to a hospital ward, with a row of empty beds and one occupied beside him.

The throbbing soreness spread across his body, and as he attempted to move, he became aware of the bandaged hands and abdomen, wrapped in white cotton.

The stone floor met his bare feet as he gingerly rose, feeling the persistent ache in his midsection.

Dishevelled, clad only in pants, he cast his mind back to the last memory he held—Mara's ominous declaration of their future encounter. "What a hardass woman!

No, lady, I don't want to face you again," he muttered, though secretly harbouring a wish for a rematch.

She had proven to be his most formidable opponent to date, and his spirit craved a chance at redemption.

As thoughts of Mara lingered, Evanore entered the room, noticing Jaegar's awakening. "Oh, you're up already. That was fast," she remarked, surprised at his recovery.

Jaegar, slightly taken aback, responded, "Fast? Were you expecting me to wake up later or not at all?"

Evanore's expression tightened as she addressed Jaegar by name, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Given the severity of your injuries, we anticipated it might take at least a couple of weeks for you to regain consciousness. The internal damage and the wound to your abdomen were quite deep and severe."

It wasn't normal for anyone to wake up this fast and heal so quickly.

Jaegar's eyebrows rose in surprise. "So, how long have I been out?" he inquired. Evanore disclosed, "Roughly five days." Jaegar sighed, processing the information. "Five days? Wow, I've been sleeping like a log," he mused to himself. Evanore then offered, "Let me check your wounds."

She checked him, and he was almost healed except for the hands and abdomen.

"You can rest if you want, those wounds seem like it would take time," she said as she was done.

Also, she had given him a tunic to wear.

He wore the tunic and said, "I will be fine, and beside, I have nothing to do here."

"Those wounds still haven't healed, you should rest for now, "Evanore suggested.

He insisted that he wanted to go, and Evanore then arranged a carriage for him to go to the academy.

After the carriage was prepared, he left the city.

As Jaegar departed in the carriage, a woman stood on the top floors of the building, observing his exit through the transparent glass wall. Her gaze was heavy with concern; this woman was Angelina.

Promptly informed about the recent incident, she hastened to the spire, visiting Jaegar and staying by his side for hours.

After he woke up, she didn't meet him as she was busy with her work in the spire.

*

On the uppermost floors of the spire, a grand hall with a towering pyramid-shaped ceiling housed a long table at its centre. Seated around it were twelve women, the esteemed council of witches, with Yasmine among them.

A sense of anticipation lingered in the air as they awaited someone's arrival.

The doors creaked open, and Angelina entered the hall, striding purposefully towards the seat at the head of the table.

The council convened to discuss the recent tumultuous incident involving the enigmatic woman, Mara.

They grappled with a lack of understanding about the ongoing events. Each member presented their thoughts until Yasmine uttered a name that abruptly silenced the room: "Mara D'Ottaviya."

At this mention, Angelina's countenance stiffened, a clear indication of the weight carried by the name, signalling unwanted attention.

Despite their attempts to discreetly manage the news of the theft from the spire, word of the incident managed to leak to the public, causing ripples of speculation and intrigue. The very name of the Witch's Spire found its way into newspapers, and the secrecy that shrouded the institution began to unravel.

The reputation of the Witch's Spire hung in the balance as questions and doubts swirled among the public. Why did the elusive woman named Mara infiltrate the spire and seek to steal the tome?

The members of the council grappled with this perplexing mystery, their thoughts consumed by the mysteries surrounding the incident and the unforeseen consequences it carried for the sanctity of their institution.