Mana exploded from my soul, forming several sixth-circle Mirror Locks behind me. As the silver magic began to coalesce, Lord Evlon's eyes widened, and he launched a bolt of raw mana at me. Fable pounced on it like a cat playing with a mouse, batting it from the sky.
Without the inquisitor's interference, the spells resolved, and four gleaming silver spheres snapped into place. Only four, and yet soul casting that many at once had taxed my soul to the limit, leaving me gasping for breath.
I watched, stomach twisting, as nothing happened. The Mirror Locks had formed around empty air. Had I been wrong? Was Evlon's plan unrelated to the anomalies I'd spotted earlier? If that were true, then I'd just wasted my only chance to resist whatever he was plotting.
