[color=39b54a]“This magic?”[/color] 

Another empty chalice climbed the palmed atmosphere like an annoying stigmata, as the rhetoric beget a stashed answer. 

[color=39b54a]“Mere parlor tricks.  Mystical, but fleeting. Hoarded like leavened manna. Now bursting with worms. Our powers do not reliably endure in this blessed land. Consistency is required to save our lord.”[/color]

His outstretched arm clenched the cupped trophy, now bearing several maggots, while he glared into the reincarnated eyes of Zaerith. 

[color=39b54a]“If there are no more questions, we should be off.”[/color]