The sunlight, reflected by the dense canopy in a myriad of colors, splintered in fractal patterns on Adam's dark robes. His striped necktie fluttered, whipped against his back by winds heavy with the scent of ancient trees, of decaying leaves crushed underfoot—and of magical beasts.
He saw a few leap into the underbrush, their small, fluffy forms quivering against rustling leaves as he passed. The larger ones howled from shadowed burrows, a throaty warning—ready to pounce on any intruder who dared to invade their territories. A warning he didn't even consider. Neither did Desmond.
The teenager was a crackling blur wreathed in purple lightning. Each of his steps boomed like a thunder strike that spread to the depths of the Spellroot Thicket. Adam didn't welcome the ruckus, not when they were after the strongest beast. Had he not sealed his qi, sensing the beast's life force would've been trivial. Now? They might as well have sounded war drums.
