A hair's length space stood between Belos and the afterlife as the fist hovered over his head, causing the hair to move, showing his scalp beneath. Belos felt a chill, a dread, as if a very dark, cold world was welcoming him into its embrace.
Erik, his fist still outstretched, didn't move a muscle. He knew the owner of that voice, his father's. The other two elders stood up, and that was followed by the emergence of the vice-head and the grand elder, who looked at Erik, her eye glowing with approval. Might be because her grandson was capable of handling someone above his realm, but that was not as magical as Belos had just entered the advanced realm himself.
It might be because of how calm Erik was in dealing with Belos and how swift he was in his decisions. Varyn had the same opinion, but he was more reserved in showing it.
Eyrx, fuming inside, spoke calmly. "It seems young Erik has too much fire in him."
