TRACY
It just doesn't end, does it?
You know, when he said he wanted to show me something, I thought it was all rubbish. I thought he was just trying to save face, you know, somehow try to justify his abhorrent act; how does one justify beating a sixty-three-year-old man?
But, in one moment, albeit a strange one, everything was clearer. I mean, my brain froze for a moment or two...
Raising one of his hands, every stone, little or big, twigs— everything was airborne, spinning in the air, right before my very eyes.
"What's going... how are you doing this?"
Dropping his hands, though everything still spun in the air, he said, "I'm a warlock. Most likely the last one in all of Wembourge. And I'm not trying to boast, but I’m really good at controlling, you know, my magic."
Okay, maybe I
