Content warning: compulsion

I found you in the morning, kneeling among my spell books. Your lips moved continuously, cracked and bleeding. Your voice had dried out hours ago reciting the same line over and over. Your fingertip traced back and forth beneath one sentence within the volume open on the floor before you.

You weren’t reading that incantation. You’d tripped the trap spell I’d placed on all my books.

Lucky for you, thief, I needed that tome today. I snapped my fingers.

Dazed, you stood.

“What have we learned?”

You repeated that same line a final time. “I will not steal from wizards.”

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