He had done something unheard of, yet again!
He hadn't just stolen magic.
He had stolen memory.
A man's thoughts, experiences, interpretations of knowledge—the very architecture of Elder Thomas's magical understanding now resided inside Renard's mind. And it wasn't a simple download. No, it was a chaotic storm of fragments, jagged and unaligned.
Renard closed his eyes and touched his forehead.
He could still feel it—the buzzing, like static under his skin. The foreign thoughts pulsed like a second heartbeat inside his skull. If he let his focus drift for even a moment, visions threatened to overwhelm him.
The absorption was not perfect yet, far from it, Renard could feel that what he absorbed was just a part of Thomas' memory and it wasn't stable enough yet!
"Focus," he whispered.
