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You’ve heard of people like this—people who deal in particular kinds of slaves for particular kinds of buyers. Buyers who, instead of fearing magically gifted slaves, desire their power.

Dorian, who is a quick thinker despite his usual posturing, reaches a hand inside his shirt and withdraws it with a deep magenta crystal in his hand. Holding it up so that the mage slaver can see it, he does something with his hand that makes it flare to life.

“Do you know what this is?” he demands, although he doesn’t wait for an answer to continue. “It’s a magic detonator. If I set it off right now, the whole of the Grand Proving Arena will blow up. And it’ll take you and your entire mage slave ring with it. You may have us imprisoned, but I’ve been willing to sacrifice myself for less—and so have my colleagues.”

You don’t recall agreeing to this—but then, you don’t suppose you have much choice. The mage slaver, however, only laughs and starts to collapse his lightning cage, crushing you against one another to immobilize you inside it.

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