Both of them sat in silence as they watched the new starry scenery up in the sky.
The visual was like a mural done by the gods themselves. Together they gazed at the transformed heavens.
The brown-skinned elf turned to him, her emerald eyes carrying the weight of centuries but still warm with the affection she reserved only for him.
She was happy that Jorghan had turned into a fine sorcerer; she taught him all she had known, and at 18, he had already surpassed her in the power ranking.
Being a nine-star sorcerer at such a young age was beyond a miracle or any prodigious talent in this forsaken world. She herself was quite shocked to learn that he had unlocked more than half of his bloodline and was close to achieving the full potential of his bloodline.
Sigora turned back to the mural sky.
