Devein's eyes narrowed. "There are no shortcuts to strength. No gift without toil. You will rise only by practice, by discipline, by the will to endure. Remember, children—we are the abandoned of Orion. None will save us but ourselves."
Xerxez lifted his head, brows furrowed. "Elder Devein… why is Wendlock's way so different from Thallerion's? Why did my people never teach this spirit energy?"
"Yeah," Matheros echoed. "Why hide such power?"
Devein's face darkened. "After the Cyprioxians took root in Thallerion, all magic was forbidden. Necromancy, crafting of enchanted weapons—even the study of spirit energy itself was condemned."
"Cyprioxians?" Xerxez asked, eyes fixed on him.
"They are worshippers of Crux," Devein explained slowly, "a holy entity who blesses only those who walk in rigid righteousness. To them, magic corrupts the human vessel. They call it a violation of the sacred flesh."
