Silence filled the night, broken only by the crackling of fire above. The two Ice Flame Dragons hovered in the sky, casting their gazes upon the castle grounds below.
It was a sight beyond comprehension—for mortals and mages alike. Even those with only a basic understanding of the Mystic Arts knew that a spell was more than just energy. It was something that was intricately connected to its caster. It was an extension of their will, like a phantom limb.
Yet here was Michael, wrenching control of the Dragon from its master—right under One's nose. The creature now followed Michael's order as if it never had any connection with its original caster.
No one knew how absurd this was more than Trakius, the 7-star Tower Master.
