"Hold on just a little longer, Hawke!" Aloysius coughed, his heart racing as a chill raced down his spine. The situation was dire—their lives hanging by a thread—as Mavros, that user of dark infernal magic, was closing in on them.
It was still hard for Aloysius to believe Delroy and Morgana had smuggled a user of dark infernal magic into the heart of the Alverton Empire.
He was powerful enough to slip through Sellia's perimeter and bypass the seeker energy of Ares, which was embedded throughout Alverton.
Aloysius's breath grew ragged. He slashed his left palm, blood dripping to the floor. With swift movements, he used the blood to draw a small magical seal.
Channeling more of his elemental energy, sparks of ergokinesis crackled and grew. Using the Wraith Vetti meant forging an Evocation magic contract—borrowing nature's power in exchange for pledging a portion of his immortality.
As Aloysius wasn't a pure mage. He wasn't like Arthur—not descended from sorcerers or wizards.
