Rughoi looked on, worried, as his closest friend and advisor rolled about on the floor, clutching his head and occasionally whispering things in a language he didn't understand. Occasionally, a bolt of fire or lightning would shoot out of his mouth, incinerating something in the room. This went on for minutes, but eventually he calmed down, panting and groaning.

"What is it?" he asked. Kutur had never made mention of epilepsy, and now would be a bad time to discover it.

"Magic itself has been shaken," Kutur said. "I don't know how to explain it . . . but I do know where it's coming from."

"Where? Quickly!" Rughoi said.

"From the south, the Lost City, that's all I was able to hear," came Kutur's response, between wheezes. Rughoi nodded, and exited the small study. He knew nothing about the Lost City but snatches of stories coming from his dracon regiment. From what he knew, something horrible once resided there, which may have now retaken residence in some way or another. 

"I'll rally the army. We make for the Lost City by tomorrow. Until then, get some rest," Rughoi decided.