Belarus, who had jumped out of the chair when the hearth suddenly caught fire, asked. The quirky little smile he had on all day was no longer on his face. It was replaced with surprise and an unhinged respect.
It was not news in Valerune about Dravon being born of magic. There have been rumors that he might even be in possession of magical powers, but nothing has ever been proven. And then he was before a certain stranger, performing the magic he dreaded, the magic he wanted to hide from the world. The same magic that killed his mother.
"Is that even possible, without lifting a finger?" Belarus continued while staring from Dravon to the fire and back.
"How did you do it?" He was staring at the fire with wide eyes. The flame flickered to life, filling the once cold place with its warmth.
"How nice it must be to be born of magic. I could possibly spend my remaining days making a single fire, but it took you seconds?"
