The familiar disorientation of spell-vision filled Zebulon's eyes, draining all color from the world. He pivoted slowly in place, trying to let his gaze remain unfocused as he looked for the flickers of color that indicated magical energy. The intensity of the color would tell him how strong the magic was, and sometimes even give hints of what kind of magic. He thought there might be a glimmer of color to his left, but he held to his slow pivot, knowing that moving quickly would break the-- ACHOO! A breath of incense tickled his nose, triggering a powerful sneeze that shattered the spell.