Joint pain, that was the one penalty of old age that Anias resented the most. It seemed like he might never stand again when he woke in the mornings. Under his warm fur blankets he began to absently rub at his aching joints. Next to him in the fire place, the last dying embers of his fire gave off the only illumination in the room, and beyond their feeble light it was pitch black.
Sitting up Anias seized his staff and muttered a few unintelligible words. To the untrained what Anias’ words caused seemed simple and elegant, however much more was involved then a few words. By stilling his mind and concentrating he had channeled the very energies of creation and reshaped the universe to his will. Even the simplest spell could be dangerous, for if he lost control of it there was no telling how the universe would be reformed.
This time brilliant white light illuminated the room, casting long shadows amongst the stacks of books. Anias set his staff against the wall so that he could rekindle the fire and make himself breakfast. Taking out some grain meal he mixed it with water in a pot and placed it on the fire to heat. He wanted to be off as soon as possible to