Chapter 35

The scrap of parchment hovered three inches above the stone table, trembling as if caught in a localized gale. Kyle Preston held his breath, his fingers splayed wide. He didn't touch the paper; he didn't even twitch. Instead, he focused on the invisible tether of mana he had spent hours trying to solidify. It wasn't a physical string, but as he concentrated, it felt like one—a thin, translucent wire of intent connecting his core to the fibers of the dead wood. The paper drifted left. Kyle...