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Magiq Lab
Like some of the thornmouths know I found a magic book a while ago and I am working on who it belongs to. So far the only secret to who wrote this is the name Willowwind written on the front cover. The book itself is about this power called bloodline magic which are explained to be like having a unique contention with the six elements beyond the powers of the guilds that is given at birth. According to the book unusually this connection is created through some magiq artifact from one of the family’s ancestors. This artifact in the hands of a descendant draws the ability to access greater power from their corresponding element out. Inside the book their is a family tree, which leads me to believe that this book is one of those artifacts. It is clearly not connected to me so I would like to give this book to correct person. Any magic connected with this book is very weak. A ritual is written in it that is used to maintain this connection for generations. If enacted then the book might be fixed and I can return it to its rightful owner. I would like some help in solving the secrets of this book most of the book is barely legal able and is written in confusing words, code or an unknown language. I would like everyone’s help with this.
The first riddle goes like this:
Turn the six to the fire of a burning hive
In the center where the heart is alive
Into the unknown you will dive
Darkness and light, flame and cold
For the night and three days fold
Seek those that have stories untold
For aether present passion
A kindling flame for a hearts fashion
For thought a simple turn inward for reflection
But beware those that cause a fraction
For ore look to life
But beware the edge of the knife
For the wild look to the winds
But pride brings sin
For the light know that it is blind
And know that it sees all time
Upon the tide present your hearts
Lest the break and hate impart
But the six turn to one another
And raise your head to the full mother
And cry out to the brother
And look to the star
Tho it is never not far
Return to me what I lost
And I will pay the cost
But know ye know and nun to soon
That at the spell shall call to those of noon
And shall descend from the mother’s boon
Mortal eyes cannot perceive
The spirits of the past conceive
Look into the mirror that a dream once grieved
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