Fors flipped through the calendar on her desk and used a pen to mark the date of the upcoming full moon.
She had decided that, as soon as she heard that horrible, illusory raving, she would chant the name of The Fool and pass the painful minutes above the gray fog.
Life is truly filled with things to look forward to… She closed the novel in her hands, ready to turn off the iron grille gas lamp that was set into the wall.
At that moment, a flash appeared in front of Fors's eyes. She saw the boundless gray fog and a lofty figure that resided in a majestic ancient palace, as well as a man who was praying devoutly.
When the voice reached her ears, she almost jumped, feeling both alarmed and joyful.
The Trickmaster formula that I've been arduously searching for all these years has been found just like that?