Lyerin's breath came in ragged gasps as he stood in the dim moonlight, the pale glow of the three moons casting eerie shadows across the landscape.
His return to the real world had been abrupt, almost violent, as if the very essence of the ruined magical world had tried to cling to him, to drag him back into its depths.
However, he had managed to break free, and now he stood on the familiar soil of the real world, he could even feel his heart pounding loudly in his chest.
This was the advantage of having a tribe with a manifested spirit.
The Borgias Family had been desperate to find a way to gain such a spirit, to secure their dominance over both realms. But Lyerin had succeeded where they had failed, and now he could traverse between the real world and the ruined magical world as easily as stepping through a doorway—provided he offered the right essence.
It was his edge against them and everyone.