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"How little you understand. A man of power is at war with everything that lives. LeKestra knows this. So do I. You, Therese, on the other hand, have yet to learn the importance of choosing the right side."
Few conjurers remained who had such power. One lived at the end of this trail.
I held my father while he died. It was all I could do, but I whispered fiercely, "Father, I'll get your sword back one day. One day when he least expects it." I'm not sure Father could hear me by then, but I never forgot my promise.
I remember seeing a patch of sun-scorched grass become a lion watching me with amber eyes.