The Pain of Prophecy

Although his spellcasting technique had already surpassed that of some senior adepts, Salomon still humbly bowed to the Arcanist, who was several times his age, to show his respect. Master Hamir had not only watched him grow up, but was also an indispensable part of Kamar-Taj. Whether by merit or seniority, Salomon had to show respect to this old Arcanist. He intended to make a new prophecy based on the prophecy provided by the madwoman calling herself the Eye of Calamity, which required an extraordinarily profound mastery of divination magic.

Master Hamir was the best interpreter of prophecy aside from The Venerable One and Salomon himself, which was why he had asked for Master Hamir's assistance. It was not that he did not wish to seek The Venerable One's help, but the Sorcerer Supreme's magical power had to be reserved for critical moments. The ascetics living in Kamar-Taj's snowy mountains spent their entire lives waiting to sacrifice themselves at such a moment, bearing the cost of grand magic for the Sorcerer Supreme. The last time The Venerable One had enveloped Earth in the Mirror Dimension, more than half of those attendants had died. Now that their ranks had finally been replenished, Salomon had even less right to waste their sacrifice.

Weak sunlight reflected off the heavy snow, stumbling through the window lattice. Cold yet fresh air poured in through the newly opened window, sweeping away the tiny burnt particles that had floated in the air year-round. The room was simply furnished, but in the eyes of anyone with supernatural sight, every inch of space was covered in golden lines. Those lines formed an unimaginably complex geometric pattern, a high-dimensional projection. Salomon had spent more than one entire night studying here. Incense meant to strengthen Mental Power had been burned here