Edwin Maginstrate appeared again, bruised and battered, yet still radiant with purpose. His eye was nearly swollen shut, his robes tattered and marked by soot, but his spirit burned as brightly as the crystal light behind him. Every word trembled between agony and conviction.
"Magic was founded not by men, but by those who studied the divine anatomy of beings far greater than us. But they were stolen and studied by the heroes of old who had gazed into the body of creation itself. The old legends speak of how the great ones, Aetherion and the rest, shaped the very structure of power that was used to combat these beings. But these lost beings were the first spellbooks that we studied."
He set down his chalk, raising a trembling hand to trace glowing symbols in the air. The runes pulsed like beating hearts.
