"Not enough mana? Preposterous!"
Anna paced the room, frustration oozing from her every movement. She cast a venomous look at the grimoire that sat, open and innocent, on her bedside table. The tagged page that stared up at the ceiling bore a long, complex spell, written in a tongue not often spoken by mortals. The language of demons, taboo as it was, was a beautiful language as poetic as it was complicated, and it was vital to casting many spells of overwhelming power. At that moment, the ancient characters seemed to mock her, dancing across the page in fading candlelight.
