"The Goddess of Magic?" Areyos murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on Torval. "What do you know about her?"
Torval took a puff from his pipe, the sharp scent of tobacco mixing with the hot metal smell of the workshop. "Well, thousands of years ago in Sylvestria, a statue like the one in the main plaza, but much bigger, appeared in the center of a village that later became the great kingdom of Sylvestria. Legend says the first Kaltaris touched the statue's robe, and suddenly, mana poured out, surrounding him and making him the first mage. The priests and sages with him inherited his gift and spread it to the rest of the elves. The first Kaltaris, though, kept the privilege of royal magic, a kind stronger than the usual stuff…"
Yoko's eyes widened. "That's how the elves got magic?"
"Yup," Torval confirmed, setting his pipe on a shelf. "Thanks to that mysterious goddess. Without her, the elves, who can't transform like Metaryons or Aegyls, would've never had that kind of power."
