"Masters?!" Snowcloud's voice was filled with disbelief. "You want us to become stronger than Masters? Before we even become novices?"
"You're already a novice," Brightblade pointed out. "And yes, I want you both to have the strength of Masters before you assume the title."
"In a year?" Arran stared at Brightblade in astonishment.
He had not forgotten how he had faced two Masters in Uvar. And while he had won that battle through trickery, the memory of the woman exploding half a mile of treeline with a single gesture still filled him with awe.
The idea that he could learn to rival such might in a single year seemed not just impossible, but positively ludicrous.
Seeing Arran's baffled expression, Brightblade laughed. "It isn't as impossible as you assume," she said. "In fact, you're already closer than you might think. While Masters might beat you in magical skill—"
"And Essence reserves," Snowcloud interjected.
"Knowledge, too," Arran added.
