His eyes flew open.
Amber light swirled in his palms, spinning like liquid flame. His blue eyes blazed brighter, lit from within by something not entirely his own.
The men stopped halfway, startled by the strange glow that wrapped around him. One pointed at Malin, his voice sharp with panic.
"A witch—he's a witch!"
The others froze, exchanging uneasy glances. No one moved until their leader stepped forward, a sneer curling on his lips.
"So what if he is?" His voice was mocking. "He's just a boy."
The others relaxed, laughing in low, cruel tones.
"That's right… just a boy," they muttered, and began advancing again.
Malin's pulse hammered in his ears. The warmth in his veins frightened him, but he forced himself to focus on the men, keeping his stance steady.
One of them lunged.
