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“I confess, I wore it for you,” Aaravos says, extending his arms to showcase elegant trailing sleeves that drip from his wrists like rivers of starlight. He tips his head, staring at Viren with smoldering eyes. “I know what you like, after all.”
Viren is indignant, despite his embarrassment. “You know nothing about me—”
“I can see your mind, mage,” interrupts Aaravos sharply, and though he doesn’t stop smiling, his eyes flash in a dangerous way that steals the rest of Viren’s words from his throat. “Remember the chalice, the knife, the blood? You completed the spell that began our connection. This is merely the next step.” He waves his hand to the glowing silver runes inscribed upon the mirror. “I offer you this power freely, Viren,” he says. “But if you want to master it, you must first lay down your ego and submit.”