[center][h2]Morgenröte[/h2][/center] Inhaling an entire breathe of air, Einer took in the sights and scents of the Morgenröte Republic. He had never traveled to this part of the country. In fact, he had never traveled outside of Flugell until now. It was certainly an experience for the young Devaron, but he never forgot why he came here. The Theocracy back home was safer for Einer and more familiar, but it did not have what he truly desired. Before moving on, Einer spared a glance at his invitation to the Eon Tower, one of the many sects the Magus Association had. It was the first organization he saw and decided that it would be the place where he would begin his search. He had also heard it was formed pretty recently, likely the reason why he was accepted despite his middling magical abilities. Einer sighed. He was far from home, and knew no one here. He was a stranger in a land that he did not know, but the things in life worth pursuing were hardly easy to pursue. [center]---[/center] [center][h3]~ The Eon Tower ~[/h3][/center] Einer arrived at the designated location in the invitation, the Eon Tower itself. It towered, of course, but it was taller than the young Devaron expected. He was at awe, and started wondering what was inside. It certainly would not be anything Church-themed so he decided not to expect anything and let himself be surprised at what it offered. Looking back down, he saw the assembled people and immediately guessed that they were probably fellow Reavers. His guesses were confirmed when two witches who arrived via a flying broom introduced themselves and asked those present if they were here for the Tower as well. They all looked so... capable. Powerful. Independent. They would not be defenseless in a fight, nor do they need to fear a crude ambush. And who was Einer compared to these people? A short, lanky boy who casts his magic with a damn lyre. No doubt, they would order him to the back lines in missions. Protect him from harm, if only by principle. Would they even need his healing abilities? These people did not even look possible to hurt. The young Devaron, who arrived on foot carrying only a small sack of his belongings and his personal lyre, closed his eyes to purge his envy from his being and compose himself. If what he sought was here, then there was no need to worry about anything.