The atmosphere in the ruined wing of Vistro manor felt like something out of a legend. Captain Valerius, the iron-clad commander whose name was synonymous with the stability of Vistro territory itself, stood between the injured Marquis and his third son. Lightning crawled across Edward's body in violent arcs, snapping and crackling like a living thing, bathing the shattered hall in flashes of deep blue light.
Valerius was usually a man of steel and few words, but for the first time in his thirty years of service, his mind was a mess. Under his helmet, his eyes showed a mix of confusion and pain. He could feel the energy coming from the boy – a dark-purple, choking feeling, like a mountain about to fall on him. It was clear that the young man was at the High Mage Realm.
