The archmage's smile widened, and for a moment, he looked almost gentle. Almost.
"No game," he said, lowering his arms. "A test. The last one."
"Fighting you isn't a test. It's suicide."
"Normally, yes." He took a step closer, and the torches along the walls dimmed in response, their flames bowing toward him like flowers following the sun. "But I won't be using my full power. That would be boring. For both of us."
"How much?" Evelina asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.
"Enough to make you work for it. Not enough to kill you." He tilted his head, that blind gaze somehow finding each of us in turn. "Probably."
"Probably," Kevin repeated flatly.
"I've been alive for centuries. Certainties are for the young."
Vivianne shifted her weight, her eyes darting between the archmage and the darkness around us. "Can we refuse?"
