Renard sat back on his heels, hands trembling, sweat trailing down his temple as the lingering effects of Devour rippled through him. The bathroom was silent save for the occasional drip of water from the basin. The corpse of Elder Thomas lay sprawled across the floor, expression frozen in a moment of disbelief. Boa curled protectively near Renard's side, watching him intently, her tongue flicking as if sensing the shift in his soul.
He had done something unheard of, yet again!
He hadn't just stolen magic.
He had stolen memory.
A man's thoughts, experiences, interpretations of knowledge—the very architecture of Elder Thomas's magical understanding now resided inside Renard's mind. And it wasn't a simple download. No, it was a chaotic storm of fragments, jagged and unaligned.
Renard closed his eyes and touched his forehead.
