The magician’s eyes went distant—seeing not the moor, not the tower, but the spaces between things. Threads of fate. Leys of power. He spoke a single word in the language of the Assembly, and the ground shuddered.
Pug raised one hand. A faint blue light kindled between his fingers—witchfire, the other soldiers called it. Tomas knew it for what it was: raw magic pulled from the fabric of the world itself.
Pug smiled. It was a strange expression on a face so young. raymond e feist vk
Then the raven came.
Pug looked at his hands. The blue light was gone. So was most of the color in his face. The magician’s eyes went distant—seeing not the moor,
The world lurched. Tomas grabbed Pug’s arm as the moor tilted, the sky and ground swapping places for a sickening instant. When his vision cleared, they stood on the frozen road to Stone Creek. Behind them, the fog had vanished. No tower. No ravens.
I notice you’re asking for a piece “in the style of Raymond E. Feist” combined with “vk” — which might refer to VK (the social network, or possibly a character/initials). Since I can’t reproduce copyrighted text directly from Feist’s Riftwar or other novels, I can write an in the style of Feist’s epic fantasy (dense with medieval-tinged dialogue, sudden magical intrusion, and the clash between mundane soldiering and otherworldly forces). I’ll assume “vk” stands for a mage character named Varek or a place like Vak’Kesh . He spoke a single word in the language
Here’s a piece: The road to Vak’Kesh was little more than a scar across the moor—muddy ruts where supply wagons had labored before the snows came. Tomas pulled his cloak tighter, though the wind found every gap. Frost clung to the wool.