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Chapter Three Hundred and Ninety-Two. Growing pains.
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... aking on a silver sheen as she began to weave the pattern of the ritual.
It was beautiful.
She directed the flows of mana like a conductor guiding their orchestra, painting the sky with sure motions. It was art.
The difference between his ritual and hers was plain. He could cast the ritual, but it was a plain, simple working with no grace to it.
She had a gift, a natural aptitude for working with Mana that was beyond him.
He smiled. There was a time when h ...
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