Despite everything going on with me possibly moving and starting university in a month or so, I've still managed to get
some progress made in the next chapter, and here's a small taste from the rough draft so far.
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The youngest sister blew out the candles set up in the middle of the long table, and Chorem immediately sighed.
“Chorem! Do it again! Do it again!” the sister pleaded.
“Okay! But stop doing that. This is the last time,” Chorem said.
The young mage held his hand forward, holding his fingers in the shape of a pistol. He pointed at the candle on the far end of the table, and flicked his wrist, mimicking the recoil of a fired gun. The wick of the candle instantly produced a small flame, and Chorem swept his hand across the table, pointing at the other candles and lighting them in kind. The children cheered, and Chorem rolled his eyes.
“At least someone likes your parlor tricks, Chor,” Dylock joked.
“We love his tricks!” the children cheered.
“Oh, you guys love my tricks, do you?” Chorem asked, a smirk growing on his face at the same time as a ghoulish apparition rose up behind the unaware children in their seats. It loomed closer and closer, opening a ghastly maw as black as pitch as its red eyes gleamed.
Chorem’s mother glanced at the apparition. “Chorem, not at the dinner table!” she said sternly, slamming her fork against her plate.
The shadow quickly receded, disappearing into nothing as Chorem’s shoulders rose tensely as he cowered in his chair. “Apologies,” he muttered.