The moment of clarity between us was severed by a sudden, violent vibration in the air. The diary in my lap didn't just glow; it pulsed with a frantic, white-hot heat. I felt a surge of magicore erupting from the center of my chest, but it wasn't the refined gold of my 62% mastery—it was a chaotic, unbridled energy that felt like a star collapsing inside my ribs.
"Craig?! Your eyes!" Luviyah's voice was the last thing I heard. My vision turned into a kaleidoscope of silver and gold before everything went black, and I slumped forward into her arms, my body seizing under the pressure of a power I couldn't yet hold.
"Healers! To the Queen's chambers! NOW!" Luviyah's scream echoed through the ivory halls, her regal composure shattering as she held my limp body.
Within minutes, the High Sages of Westeros were surrounding the bed, their staves glowing with pale green light. But as they tried to weave their healing spells, the mana was simply sucked into my skin and neutralized.
