Dragonmage of Mystara

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Night seemed to gather like standing water from a gentle rain, slowly filling the narrow streets and alleys of the city and the low places where the walls met the cobbled streets. The gray stone of the buildings and the dull bluish tiles of the roofs deepened and gradually seemed to disappear into the shadows. The bitterness of the long winter had given way to a mild and pleasant spring, but night still came early to the Highlands, and the cold still seemed to gather with the darkness.

Alessa Vyledaar stood at the window of her private chamber, watching the deepening shadows of the approaching night. The wide window was one of the principal reasons why she had made this chamber her own, even if it was yet another flight of stairs higher in the Wizards' Residence of the Academy. She had never been comfortable in Byen Kalestraan's old chambers, which had seemed to her like a windowless cavern, dark and remote. But there had also been a rather disquieting presence to those chambers, almost as if they were haunted. She had never been one to worry much about ghosts, but she did not trust anything that might have involved

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