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“Ketal, what was that just now?” Ignisia asked him.
What had flared a moment earlier was nothing like the Myst he usually handled. It had not been Ketal clamping down and forcing it to behave. It had surged out as if it carried a will of its own. The movement was utterly different from the ever-tight restraint she had watched him keep until now.
“We had a conversation,” Ketal said. “It went well.”
“A… conversation? With whom?” Ignisia looked genuinely at a loss. No matter how she turned it over, those words did not sound like something one said about one’s own power.
“In any case, it worked,” she continued.
Mantamia’s mine was now bound, cinched tight by the Dragon Tongue weave they had cast together. That by itself meant very little, since the interior still counted as Raphael’s domain. The part that mattered began here.
“Are you sure you can do it?” she asked him, doubt pulling at her voice despite everything she had seen.
Rather than answer, Ketal laid his palm on the ground that had come up with the mine inside the binding. He soaked his hand with the Myst until it blended into the wrap and could not slip, then put his weight into the pull.
However, nothing...
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