“Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be using one of the few Druid spells I learned before my childhood was shattered.” Crowlin said without looking up. “Don’t worry; it’s harmless. It’s just a spell that allows me to see the flow of magic, to sense the connections that magic makes between objects.” Before the supervising knight could protest, Crowlin placed his hand above the masked corpse’s face and closed his eyes, the air between his hand and the mask shimmering.
In his mind’s eye, Crowlin could see a malefic black aura just in front of him, and realized it was the mask. The thing was entirely saturated with some foreign sort of dark magic, a type of black magic he had never encountered before. Turning his hand, Crowlin saw that there was the slightest of spaces between the mask and the face, and that red light seemed to be emanating from that infinitesimal space. Looking closer, he realized that the red light was actually threads of magic - thousands upon thousands of them, all linking the mask to the corpse’s face.
Opening his eyes, Crowlin took a breath. “How curious.”
“What is it?” the supervising knight asked.
“This mask looks like it’s been sewn onto this man’s face - with magic.” Crowlin said, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “And not just around the border, either. There are thousands of threads of magic linking the mask to every inch of his face. It’s no wonder nobody could pull the mask off without taking the man’s face with it.”
“Does that mean we’ll never know his identity?”
“No, I can get it off.” Crowlin said, glaring at the corpse. “But it will take time. The threads of magic can be severed with magic, but the space between the mask and the face is so small the unaided eye cannot see it. I will have to be careful not to cut his face while I am also cutting the threads.”