As the two black-iron demon warriors stepped forward, their gauntleted hands stretching out to rip Sylaris away from Zaliyah's lap, the air completely fractured. Zaliyah stood up in a fluid motion. The parternal, protective rage within his core detonated. His silver hair began to glow with a blinding, ethereal light, throwing violent shadows against the petrified wood bookshelves.
He closed his eyes, his pale lips moving in a low chant, muttering ancient words of power.
The headmistress stepped back, her glasses slipping down her nose, while the grey-skinned teacher looked on in confusion.
They couldn't make sense of the dialect, it wasn't the Usual tongue of the Northwest, it was something different ,far older.
Zaliyah raised his slender hand, his fingers curving to summon the rabid snow monsters from the mountain peaks to tear this room to shreds.
