Vincent feels ill at ease immediately. Even when there was no-one immediately near him, the amount of spellcasters in the modern world created a gentle din that any mage worth their salt could feel as an undercurrent. A steady tone behind any other noise.
This place was dead. There was magic, but nothing was being done with it.
"There's...." He looked around nervously. "There's no mages." He tried examining the local flora, but botany of any era, beyond those plants useful to magical procedures, were outside his areas of interest or expertise.
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