Michael spent the rest of the feast deep in thought, barely aware of the conversations flowing around the violet table. The tale of ancient mages and the Great War still lingered in his mind, coaxing him toward a troubling theory — that his storage ring might once have belonged to a mage from that lost era.
It was hard to reconcile. He had seen the violet mage's corpse with his own eyes. When he'd reached for the ring, the man had looked far too young — barely in his twenties.
Eventually, Michael abandoned the speculation for now. He lacked the knowledge to confirm anything. But he made himself a promise: he would research everything he could about the ancient era, even their lost written language. Perhaps the scrolls hidden within his storage ring would one day yield the answers he sought.
A light nudge on his left arm snapped him out of his reverie.
"Hmm? What is it?" he asked, turning to Melody. Her bemused smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
