Theron was completely lost in the feeling. He didn't realize how long he had gone until he put down the last of his Mana Wood and made a move to go an pick up more only to find that he had actually run out.
Blinking, the first thing he felt was a wave of fatigue, and then he felt the odd eminating aura in the room.
It felt as though the Dark Mana in the region had multiplied several times over.
At first, Theorn thought that maybe it was an illusion. It was possible that his sensitivity to Dark Mana had increased substantially, enough that he had the perception that things had changed even when they hadn't.
But this was apparently only half the truth.
'The carvings…'
Theron's gaze flickered and moved toward the pile, ignoring his fatigue. He put his hands into the smooth carvings until he made it deep enough that his skin began to catch on a few snags. There was more than one time he almost suffered a hand full of splinters.
By the end, he had confirmed it.
