Mortimer glares at me as he repeats the question. “Who are you?”
I lean back on my haunches. “I’m the same man you’ve always known.”
“What was that spell?”
“It’s one I learned from the desert realm.”
“I don’t mean your first spell. That casting didn’t work. Then, some demon threatened me with a sword. Next, you cast a second spell with far more powerful magic.”
Good question. Leaning forward, I examine the spot where I cast my spell. A few sycamore seeds are the only sign that I did anything.
Good question. “You want to know how I cast that second spell?” I pick up a few of the blackened seeds. “These ingredients must have carried far more power than I thought.”
It’s a good theory. Even so, some small part of me says that I’m missing something important. It all has to do with Osiris
