The pressure in the room became unbearable. With the containment circle broken, the air itself seemed to liquefy, turning into a swirling vortex of gold and silver light that tore at the tapestries and cracked the ceiling. Luviyah clung to me, her body acting as a lightning rod, but even she gasped as the raw, unrefined power began to sear her skin.
Deep within the subconscious void, I stood at the center of the storm. I remembered the Future Craig's eyes—the way he looked not like a man holding a weapon, but like a man who was the weather.
I looked at the jagged walls of my own Magicore. For my entire journey, I had been trying to build dams, to construct cages, to "master" the energy as if it were a wild beast I needed to tame. I realized then that I was thinking like a mortal. Mortal mages have limiters; they have vessels that can only hold so much before they shatter. They must control their mana, or it consumes them.
