Elara rested one fingertip against the edge of the book.
'Fine.'
Before she corrected his spellcasting, she wanted to know what his hands were trying to remember.
Her attention returned to the formation plate, where Lucavion's second attempt remained suspended in pale silver lines across the dark surface.
The structure looked rough beside the clean instructional form she had demonstrated earlier. His anchors sat within acceptable tolerance, the primary channel carried a slight variation in width, and the invocation core possessed the awkward stiffness of someone forcing his fingers to reproduce shapes they had learned only minutes ago.
For a first lesson, it was excellent.
More importantly, she had already seen what she wanted.
Twice, Lucavion's hand had hesitated before particular transitions.
Once, his fingers had even begun another movement before conscious correction dragged them back toward the Arcanian form.
Elara looked toward the open textbook.
Then closed it.
