Talk about a shock to the system. I gaped at the well-dressed and impeccably groomed man standing before me with a sweet smile on his cherub face. Though his hair was still white and softly curling, Demetrius's scar was gone, skin flawless. He looked at least twenty years younger, more Mom's age than the beaten, broken nutpot I'd known.

This Demetrius appeared much more like when we'd first met. Back when he was leader of the Chosen of the Light, the sect of fanatical magic ...