Ellis's words fell like a giant stone cast into a stagnant pool, sending silent yet violent ripples through the quiet night.
Holland's expression, a mix of worry and curiosity, instantly froze.
He turned his head, looking blankly from Ellis to Roland, as if he hadn't understood the word.
"Spiritual Master? What in the world is that? Some kind of new Caster school?"
He scratched his head, his brown eyes filled with confusion.
"Sounds a bit like 'Mind Flayer,' doesn't it? How could Rudolph…"
"It's not the same!"
Ellis interrupted Holland—a rare occurrence. His voice was pitched high with excitement, his gray-blue eyes burning with a fiery mixture of shock, awe, and disbelief, completely fixed on Roland.
It was as if he were looking at something that existed only in the illustrated frontispieces of ancient, forbidden texts, or in the legends his mentors spoke of in hushed tones—tales that were equal parts warning and aspiration.
"Completely… different!"
