"Magic comes from what is inside you. It is a part of you. You can't weave together a spell you don't believe in."

The words would ring through Ainsley's head every time he shifted plane. The pull of the weave tearing his insides out and reforming them molecule by molecule, the pain and bliss that entwined like a thorny rose making his body ache in places he hadn't realised he possessed. It was worth the torment, this could be the plane he found her. This time might be different.


Tall, yet unassuming. Stocky, yet lacking a warrior's build. Deep soulful brown hues that are etched in sorrow yet hold an inner peace. This man dresses simply, speaks quietly and thinks carefully.