The archmage rolled his shoulders, and the last traces of the wound vanished beneath. No blood. No scar. Just smooth, unmarked skin that had never been touched by anything sharper than silk.
"That ended faster than I would have liked," he admitted. "I wanted to see how three demons would have fared against me."
"You're the one who agreed to give us preparation time," I replied. "That's your fault."
"I suppose. But I do have to say..."
The archmage turned to look at Evelina, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his ancient features. Then he let out a small, almost admiring chuckle.
"That woman's imagination is certainly something. To think she'd be able to fluster the mind of a centuries-old mage."
"Thank Cael for corrupting my mind with those thoughts," Evelina replied, her voice dry.
The archmage's chuckle deepened into something richer, almost warm.
