The moon was high and full.
Its light poured into the guest quarters of the Royal Academy like liquid silver.
Iris Silvermoon sat before a basin of water.
She did not move. She did not blink.
To a human observer, she would appear to be meditating.
To an elf, she was on a conference call.
The surface of the water rippled. It did not ripple from wind or vibration.
It rippled with magic.
An image formed on the surface. It was the face of Elder Aerin.
He looked old. Even by elven standards, he looked like a dried apple carved from stone.
"Report," the Elder said. His voice echoed directly in Iris's mind.
"The Child of Destiny is physically healthy," Iris replied aloud. "He consumes large quantities of meat. He hits things with metal bars."
"And his magical aptitude?"
"Non-existent for elemental casting. High for physical enhancement."
The Elder frowned. The water rippled with his displeasure.
