'Wow it's dark.' Aron thought to himself, and then his gaze was drawn to a small fountain resting in one of the decorative crevices that lined the hallway. Dusty but working, it still held a small pool of water in its ornate basin.
Aron reached his hand out toward the basin, "Alright!" and coaxed a ball of water to hang in the air before him, twisting and crystalizing it so that it threw the faint light from a high window down the corridor in front of him. As he did, however, he looked back at the water with a small frown, "It's been tainted. I wonder if something bad happened here..." Just then a cool wind hit him with a sickly, rotten odor. As a chill ran up his spine, he steeled himself, and tentatively turned to look over his shoulder.
What is once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?