The priest raced against the howling wind, leaving afterimages in his wake. Fortunately, the temple's designer used the best materials, or the elegant slabs would have cracked under his legs' pressure.
He penetrated the throne hall in a flash, his eyes widening in panic. "My Emperor!" He yelled, rushing to the unconscious archmage. The worst theories took shape in his mind as it swirled into chaos. With the sigil in this state, did the magus retaliate already, snuffing his liege's life like a candle?
However, his tense expression relaxed after he checked the powerful man's heartbeat. Drawing a deep breath of relief, he used his mana to check his condition, ignoring the ethereal copy flickering in and out of existence. After all, Zarathor only veiled the magus' eyes.
