The top floor of the Red Flame Tower was strangely quiet.
The moment Raven and his group stepped inside the Tower Master's chamber, the air turned thick—not with tension, but with magic.
It was old, ancient, and settled magic that hung on the walls like sleeping dragons.
The room was circular, with domed ceilings covered in moving flame runes.
Shelves packed with tomes towered in the corners, and the central platform held a single massive, molten-red table made of living lava crystal.
Behind it sat a man whose presence could smother suns.
Tower Master Vernix.
An eight-circle fire mage, his beard shimmered like burning coal, and his eyes glowed faintly with embers.
He wasn't just powerful—he looked like he owned the concept of fire. And the tea on his table was actually boiling from the ambient mana in the room.
He didn't speak right away.
