A NEW THREAT 

Azreon's eyes remained on me as the frown on his face deepened. His reaction to my words was a mix of surprise and confusion. For a moment, he didn't say a word, his eyes occasionally glancing at the boiling pot as though it held the answer he was meant to give me.

"It looked exactly like mine?" Azreon muttered slowly, more to himself than me as he ran his hands over the table in front of him. His body stiffened and I could see that he was filled with unease. "My type of magic, Elora, isn't one that can be attributed to just one person," he said, his tone measured. "I was taught by one of the greatest mages to ever live-my father-and he taught many other students too. But..." he paused for some seconds, his eyes traveling down to the table, "... that fact that the spells the rogues used and the smoke they left behind stands out to you that it seems so much similar to mine, it... it is troubling, to say the least."

Azreon was right. I recalled seeing the healers in my pack perform ma