The protective spells sank into the party, all of the mages shifting slightly as Shell and Protect laced their minds and bodies. He’d walked into this cave with a small headache brewing at his temples, but even that pain had retreated battle—with blood pumping and adrenaline looming, smaller concerns filtered away. Wolfe found himself instinctively watching Flynn as they went, unconsciously monitoring his former protege and stepping in line beside her like some sort of over-sized guard dog. The spell was welcome; he cracked his knuckles and looked at the wyrm, catching on the familiar colours on the book’s cover.
He tried to imagine how it had ended up there, in this nest. Had Toku himself gone crawling in here himself and thrown a scholar’s textbook to the wyrm, like an owner feeding a greedy pet? It was pointless wondering—after a glance at the others, a slight nod exchanged (permission granted), Wolfe threw a wave of Thundara at the beast, electricity crackling in the cavern, the smell of ozone thick in the air.