Cyril stands before us.
Color drains from Celeste's face. Confusion mars her features.
"I-I don't...understand..." She whispers. "What's happening?"
"I would like to know that very same thing." I add, staring hard at the older mage. "I thought you were dead."
"Yes. It was quite the display, wasn't it?" He smiled. There was neither warmth nor malice in it. "Grotesque and dramatic. Very final."
My hand grips my sword.
This is bad for...many reasons.
One of them being that my quiet hope that Celeste would help us face him down is...nonexistent right now. There's a danger she might even switch sides.
I swallow.
"I'd really like to hear how this is some kind of misunderstanding." I say, dry as I can manage.
Lucas lets out a breath and crosses his arms. "So is it Vesperian or Cyril?"
He looks...less surprised than he should.
Cyril glances in Lucas' direction.
