The air rippled
Six magic circles burst into existence around Lugh, their formation instantaneous and violent.
His body seized. Magic circuits flared beneath his skin like molten veins. He grit his teeth. Five was the limit for this body. Six was suicudal
His fingertips numbed as untamed energy pulsed through him. The circles trembled. One cracked.
His mind, desperate to focus, flicked back to Emrys—the green-robed monster of a man who could conjure hundreds of circles simultaneously, each one woven with spells potent enough to devastate entire formations.
Compared to the royal guard that had dared to challenge him, Emrys had stood in a class of his own. A terrifying outlier even among elves. And Lugh was reminded, yet again, of the gulf that separated them.
He clenched his fist. One circle shattered. He dismissed it before the backlash fried his circuits entirely.
The remaining five glowed brighter, fueled with compressed, unstable energy.
