High in the lofts of the tower to the east of a village named Gloriam, I attempted to cast a conjuration spell as my mentor, Mage Falstaff, watched. The objective was to summon a scarlet feather- the likes one would find on the plumage of an imperial phoenix from the southlands a millennia ago. It required just the right movements from my wand,
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Hic venit in colore coccineo, et bysso retorta
Ab ortu enim solis usque ad occasum lunae
A septentrione in austrum terrae stellarum
Pluma de pulchra Caesarea phoenīx
Circulus venias veni.”
This translates roughly to:
I summon it to this circle.
Come here feather, hued of scarlet and crimson,
From east of the sun to west of the moon,
From north of the stars to south of the earth below,
Come feather of Imperial Phoenix!
I summon you to this circle!
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Hic venit, et bysso mortem
Ab ortu enim solis usque ad occasum lunae
A septentrione in austrum terrae stellarum
Pluma de pulchra Imperial phoenīx
Circulum Facite hic!
I summon it to this circle
Come here, fine death,
For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the moon
From north to south, the land of the stars
The feature of the beautiful Imperial Phoenix
Come!
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Ab occidente in oriente, a terra ad siderea,
Ad altitudinem ortus!
Ite. Ite. Numquam in unquam.
Ite. Ite. Et non est reversa.”
This translates to:
Go your way, whence you came;
From west to east, from the earth to the stars,
At the height of the rise!
Go. Go. Never at any time.
Go. Go. And she did not.
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