Яппаньки вам,уважаем(ый)(ая)(ое)!

nose, black leather vest, muscular biceps, black gloves, pants. No mage illusion disguised the figure.

I want to help you, she had said. Whatever your task is. Wherever it takes you.

Galen took a few steps toward her. The first prisoner was brought out from the bright chamber, and G'Leel was ushered in. The door built into the stone wall closed, the cavern falling back into its dim light.

He cast the spell to access the relay aboard his ship. Through it, he could reach the relay orbiting Regula 4. Then he could reassure himself that G'Leel was still there, and safe. Not here. Not here.

But there was no echo from the tech. He could not reach the relay. Whether he was too deep, or Elizar had set up some block, he couldn't tell. If he'd remained associated with the ship, he would have had no trouble. But he had not.

The sound of the drill chittered out over the cavern.

Elizar wanted him to go into that room. That had to be the trap. He could not enter.

He had wanted to wait until he found Elizar and Razeel before unleashing his energy. But he could not wait. So many had died because of him. He could not allow her to become another.

Galen focused on the door and surrounding stone, visualized the one-term equation of destruction. Energy fell upon him with crushing pressure in wave upon wave upon wave, burning through his skin, singing down the lines of tech, filling him with brilliant, ecstatic fire. For the first time in nearly two years, he'd cast the spell that was his purpose for existing, and he was alive, truly alive, his body blazing, incandescent. With a rush the energy shot out toward the chamber, sending him stumbling back. A spherical area encompassing the door and the stone around it began to redden and darken. Space became fluid, the cave
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