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Riverus clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over as he stared at Kayer.
"If you don't get a grip, everyone you love will perish!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.
"You were blessed by Ianthe and inherited her power— you're the strongest magic swordsman alive! If you fall into darkness, what will become of everything Iya fought to protect?"
He couldn't help but feel restless.
Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. Kayer did not respond, his expression unreadable.
The next morning, a letter was found on Riverus' desk— a resignation.
The ink had barely dried, and by the time Emette rushed to inform Kayer, the ripples of unstable magic had already begun to settle in their own.
It seemed like it was too little too late to change the circumstance.
Riverus was already gone.
