Solomon pushed the door open. The office was empty, save for the scaled falcon perched quietly on the edge of the mahogany desk. Solomon glanced around, failing to spot the grandmaster.
Suddenly, a distinct splashing sound echoed from the far wall. The Grandmaster stepped directly out of a framed landscape painting depicting a raging ocean. He was completely drenched from head to toe, seawater dripping from his clothes onto the rug.
With a snap of his fingers, a pulse of warm magic instantly dried his hair, completely evaporated the water, and flawlessly replaced his soaked clothes with a crisp, tailored academy suit. He then walked over and sat down comfortably in his leather chair.
Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Did you literally just walk out of a painting?"
"Yes, I did," the Grandmaster responded simply, offering absolutely no further explanation regarding the bizarre magical transit.
