The air cracked with magic as mana swirled around Griffonage's hand, drawn greedily from the stolen crystal.
His fingers twitched, curling. Then he struck.
A lance of violet-blue energy streaked toward the knight.
He barely raised his shield in time. The bolt smashed into it, the impact driving him back, boots skidding against the stone floor, but he held his ground.
The squire lunged, blade flashing. Griffonage barely spared him a glance. A flick of the wrist—air rippled, and the squire was hurled backward as if struck by an invisible hammer.
Sonder reacted. Hands raised, she threw up a barrier—not strong enough to stop Griffonage's magic completely, but enough to throw off his aim.
Golden sparks burst across the room as the first bolt struck.
The wizard clicked his tongue. "How inconvenient."
Another volley. Three bolts this time, raw power searing through the air.
Sonder twisted the barriers, deflecting the first just enough to send it scraping along the stone floor. The second tore through the desk behind her, shattering wood and parchment in an explosion of splinters. The third struck a shelf, sending vials and scrolls crashing to the ground.
The knight didn't wait. Sword raised, he charged.
Griffonage sneered and lifted his hand. Shadows coiled at his feet and surged upward—twisting tendrils of blackness, similar to the shadow creatures they had encountered in a trap.
They lashed out. The knight dodged one, cut through another, but more took their place, grasping, pulling, trying to drag him down.
The squire recovered, gripping his sword tight. He kept low, dashing in for an opening, blade angled for Griffonage's side.
But he was too slow.
A pulse of dark energy exploded outward. Sonder barely managed to shove a barrier between it and the squire, but the force still sent him staggering back.
"Fascinating. Where do you get your power from, girl?" Griffonage mused. "You're persistent, I'll give you that, but not nearly as powerful as me."
Sonder's breath came fast. Her reserves were running low. "I can't block forever," she called to the knight.
"Then I'll make sure you don't have to."
With a roar, the knight charged, slamming his shield into the writhing shadows. They coiled around his arm, dragging at him, trying to pull him under. He dropped to one knee—not in defeat, but by design.
Behind him, the squire sprang forward, planting a boot on the knight's shoulder. With a powerful heave, the knight launched him into the air, sending him hurtling straight toward the wizard.
Griffonage's eyes widened. The young warrior's blade came down in an arc—he barely twisted aside in time. The sword slashed through the edge of his robes, missing his ribs by a breath, and he stumbled.
The wizard snarled, flinging out a hand. A wave of force slammed into the squire mid-air, sending him crashing into a pile of books.
But the knight was already moving.
With sheer force of will, he shattered the shadows binding him.
He surged forward.
Griffonage raised a hand—too late.
Steel met flesh.
The knight's blade cut across the wizard's hand, tearing through muscle and bone.
Griffonage screamed, stumbling back, blood dripping from his mangled fingers.
Snarling, he thrust his good hand toward the cauldron. The liquid metal inside churned violently, tendrils of pure mana slithering upward, wrapping around his arm.
The room pulsed with unstable power.
He was preparing something big.