LISA
"Sorry!"
My voice carries across the clearing, and three shifters wave their hands over their heads in my direction. It could be to say everything's fine. Or maybe they're cursing me and want me to die.
Can't really blame them. They almost got blasted with a ball of fire that went rogue.
"Much farther range than expected," the Grand Sage muses, completely nonplussed by the near-accident.
The strange metal brace on my wrist glints in the sunlight. It looks more like a prop from a sci-fi movie than a magical weapon. "Are you sure this is safe enough to test? I nearly turned three wolves into barbecue."
The Grand Sage, lost in thought, mumbles, "Wolves aren't traditionally cannibals."
"I don't think that's the point." Sometimes I wonder if his genius comes with a side of selective hearing. He's always lost in his head.
He snaps back to attention. "Tell me again, what did you feel at the time of activation?"
