Daily word count: 50046 (2427)
Halfway through the footnote about Håkon's mother, it turned.
Magic started to build around him, hanging in the air wherever he went, darting across the sky in a deadly dance. He hoped the scoton would believe the ruse for what he intended it to be, a challenge. To the onlooker, who’d probably be scared out of his wits from the magical battle that had gone on for maybe half an hour already, it would look like he was glowing, shimmering, blinking in and out of existence. To an onlooker looking with magical senses, the blinking would stop, but his shape would seen bigger, more radiant. The magical onlooker would be an extremely foolish one, as some of the attacks fired by the two bird-like combatants would stray and hit him. Going from a foolish, magical onlooker to a dead onlooker was a transition most people would prefer not to go through.