The Demon
Or, rather, that Tom saved me, but didn’t save himself.
Darius sympathized with me, while I pretended to grieve, wiping my crocodile tears. Nobody suspected me, by the way. First, I had displayed to everybody my powers as a fire mage, which meant that I couldn’t be a necromancer. Second, I would have never put myself under fire.
They were wrong about magic, though. There were mages with several types of magic, even if they appeared exceedingly rarely, like once in five or six hundred years. And there was no guarantee that they would live long, as each gift was bound to manifest itself eventually.
Bab Populer