With the tension seemingly dispelled, Bander became gleeful as he remarked, “Show us what you can do!” Linvin chimed in with equal vigor and implored their uncle to display his talents.
Though a quiet and reserved elf, most of the time, Anvar relished the opportunity to show off the powers he had hidden for so long.
Taking to his feet, he swiped his hand away from his chest and a horizontal streak of orange magic flew from his hand as though he were holding a brush, saturated with orange paint. The beam flew across the clearing and sliced effortlessly though several large trees, dropping them to the forest floor.
With his hands now glowing with the orange flames, Bander had described earlier, he unleashed a great torch of flame as tall as a house. The fire instantly scorched the earth and trees, setting them ablaze. Seeing the alarmed looks on his nephews' faces, he stopped his fire blast. He made a sweeping motion from his fully extended arm, back to his chest. The fires died down with the movement and extinguished by the time his hand reached his breast. It was not dissimilar from an oil lamp, in which the wick was turned down to douse the flame.
Next, Anvar clenched both fists and his entire body glowed with orange magic. As if carried by a gentle breeze, he lifted off the ground and glided just over their heads. He circled the opening and hovered just above the treetops. He stretched forth his hand and pointed it at Rander. The young elf began to glow with the orange essence as he too lifted off the ground.
Terrified, Rander reached back for the safety of the soil, but he had risen too high to reach. He squirmed and fought but continued to rise.
“Relax,” called Linvin. “Anvar will not let any harm come to you.”
Bander could hardly contain himself as he watched. “Do me next, Uncle! Do me next!”
Anvar circled his finger around his head, making Rander float around the clearing. It was not long before Rander found himself enjoying the flight. He felt like a bird drifting on wisps of air. After several circuits of the area, Anvar landed along with Rander.
“That was incredible,” Rander cried as he ran up to hug his uncle.
Anvar sat on a log, out of breath. He held up his hand to refuse the hug and then rested his head on his knees. “It has been a long time since I used that much magic,” he said. “That was very taxing.”
The part of the magical equation about it being physically draining finally made sense to the cousins. They would ask no more from their uncle that day.
Though a quiet and reserved elf, most of the time, Anvar relished the opportunity to show off the powers he had hidden for so long.
Taking to his feet, he swiped his hand away from his chest and a horizontal streak of orange magic flew from his hand as though he were holding a brush, saturated with orange paint. The beam flew across the clearing and sliced effortlessly though several large trees, dropping them to the forest floor.
With his hands now glowing with the orange flames, Bander had described earlier, he unleashed a great torch of flame as tall as a house. The fire instantly scorched the earth and trees, setting them ablaze. Seeing the alarmed looks on his nephews' faces, he stopped his fire blast. He made a sweeping motion from his fully extended arm, back to his chest. The fires died down with the movement and extinguished by the time his hand reached his breast. It was not dissimilar from an oil lamp, in which the wick was turned down to douse the flame.
Next, Anvar clenched both fists and his entire body glowed with orange magic. As if carried by a gentle breeze, he lifted off the ground and glided just over their heads. He circled the opening and hovered just above the treetops. He stretched forth his hand and pointed it at Rander. The young elf began to glow with the orange essence as he too lifted off the ground.
Terrified, Rander reached back for the safety of the soil, but he had risen too high to reach. He squirmed and fought but continued to rise.
“Relax,” called Linvin. “Anvar will not let any harm come to you.”
Bander could hardly contain himself as he watched. “Do me next, Uncle! Do me next!”
Anvar circled his finger around his head, making Rander float around the clearing. It was not long before Rander found himself enjoying the flight. He felt like a bird drifting on wisps of air. After several circuits of the area, Anvar landed along with Rander.
“That was incredible,” Rander cried as he ran up to hug his uncle.
Anvar sat on a log, out of breath. He held up his hand to refuse the hug and then rested his head on his knees. “It has been a long time since I used that much magic,” he said. “That was very taxing.”
The part of the magical equation about it being physically draining finally made sense to the cousins. They would ask no more from their uncle that day.
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