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    "Mm?" Gale hummed, peering up at her from his crouched position. The hem of his purple robe pooled around him in a way that was almost elegant, if she ignored the six inches of mud. "I do have a name, you realize. I assume sorcerers use them as well."

    "We don't, actually; our alignment with the arcane impulse of the universe allows us to know innately when we're being addressed," she deadpanned. "My name is magic itself, it is the crackling of lightning as it gathers—"

    "All right," he snorted. The breeze blew some flyaway strands of his long hair into his face, and he fastidiously tucked them behind his ear. "How silly of me. Do excuse my ignorance. Blackstaff coursework does not provide instruction vis-à-vis the arcane impulse of the universe, if that's within the limits of your credulity."

    Tetra is a wild magic sorcerer and a scholar of magical theory. Gale is a wizard and infuriatingly inflexible in his approach to the arcane. Surely they won't have insane sexual chemistry that reignites his will to live and inspires her to kill god.

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    19 Sep 2026