A Sorcerer’s Daily Morning Ritual
Xenograg climbs the stairs to the roof and sits in a prepared spot facing east. Dawn is one of those times—or locations—where differences meet and mix. Not yet day, no longer night; an in-between state. Fleeting yet frequent. Special yet common. Simple yet magical.
Xenograg breathes deeply, aware and mindful of each breath. From years of training he senses the moment to begin. With deliberate slowness he raises his arms up from his sides. A litany of arcane words whisper from his mouth. Looking as though he means to embrace it, Xenograg the Sorcerer awaits the sun.
He inhales sharply as the dawn’s first golden rays wash over him. Everyone feels the warmth upon their skin but a sorcerer feels more. Xenograg exhales slowly, measuring the amount of energy he has captured from the crossover of night to day: not the most he has ever taken but more than his average. He lowers his arms and squints to watch the sun finish its rise over the trees. Having seen so many dawns, Xenograg can notice how this one differs ever-so-slightly from all others. No two ever alike; each unique. If missed, it is missed forever.