Lioran was sitting in his private study, a thick book with a black leather cover open before him.
A book about the structure of the soul and the methods ancient mages used to deepen their understanding of laws.
From the outside, everything seemed calm.
The evening light passed through the tall, arched windows and fell on the stone floor of the room. The blue flames of the magical lamps burned silently, and the faint scent of calming herbs rose from a small container beside the table.
Lioran wore his usual expression: calm, confident, and flawless.
His finger moved across the lines of the book every few moments, turning another page. But the truth was, in the past hour, he hadn't read a single sentence.
His mind was elsewhere. Ryndor had gone out of reach.
His old professor was neither in his quarters, nor in his laboratory, nor responding to any of the secret messages.
