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“Nothing,” he said. Many of the Thirteen
and Crochans went back to their meager meals
at his dull response. “I just want to see if it’s
possible, for someone with my manner of
magic. To even change small features.” Not a
lie, not entirely.
Manon frowned, as if trying to work out
some puzzle she couldn’t quite grasp.
“But were you to succeed,” Glennis
pressed, “who would you wish to be?”
He didn’t know. Couldn’t conjure an image
beyond empty darkness. Damaris, at his side,
would have no answer, either.
Dorian peered inward, feeling the sea of
magic that roiled inside him.
He traced its shape with careful, invisible
hands. Followed a thread within himself not to
his gut, but to his still-cracked heart.
Who do you wish to be?
There, like the seed of power that Cyrene