The way down from the Archers’ canopy was less than impressive. Knotted ropes were lowered. Mykal stayed up top while his friends, followed by Quill and Anthony, shimmied down. He pointed his hands at those nearby as if they were the lethal weapons he guessed they now were, if he knew how to summon his magic at will. The archers had no idea what he’d done had been one of the only times he’d ever used magic. They watched his fingers wide-eyed as if something more dangerous than arrows were aimed at their hearts. They feared him. He supposed he shouldn’t enjoy the feeling, but couldn’t help it. He liked it. Galatia took over the threat from the ground while Mykal worked his way down the long rope. He was amazed how it dropping below the canopy transformed daylight into darkness. The sunlight
