Malachi

I lay motionless on my knees, subdued by Massachusetts’ magic. I hadn’t managed a single strike before he conquered me. I blamed my weakening body; it had dulled my reflexes. Had I possessed my past vitality, I would have taken his head in one clean swipe. He wasn't the first sorcerer I had bested, but back then, I was incredibly fast—a sharp contrast to my current lethargic movements.

"You forget, Ragnar, that I am a potent wizard," he hissed. "Taking me down is no ...