Imogen still couldn't believe what just happened.
No, seriously. Was she that stupid? Or was her magic just that unstable?
She stared at Raphael like he had grown another head. No, correction—like he had grown dragon wings, claws, and breathed out her barrier spell with a yawn. How did this make sense? How could anyone, let alone this kid with the face of an angelic porcelain doll, just casually absorb her magic like it was no big deal?
This is impossible. I'm the genius here.
Her mind raced in circles. Was she just bad at this? Was her barrier spell a fluke? Or worse… had Raphael just revealed something even her grandfather hadn't warned her about?
While Imogen fought her mental war, Raphael simply stared at her, just as stunned as she was. Their eyes met. They didn't speak. They didn't blink. Time seemed to stretch painfully between them as if someone had pressed 'pause' on reality.
What's with this awkward tension? Who's supposed to speak first? Me? Him?
