"How much do you know about the magic you just used?"
The question threw him slightly off balance, though it wasn't exactly unexpected. In truth, he might have been more concerned if they hadn't asked it.
As for the magic itself, it was something Emrys had relied on frequently—closely aligned with his personal style. That much, at least, Lugh had gathered from the elf's memories.
But if his past experiences were anything to go by, he couldn't fully trust those memories. That had become a persistent problem. A quiet, festering thing in the back of his mind.
He now understood—clearly—that he had not, in fact, consumed the complete consciousness of his victims.
Despite what the Mawglass tried to make him believe, he hadn't inherited the full weight of their knowledge, their wisdom, or their lives.
His mind kept insisting otherwise, lulling him into a false narrative.
The contradiction was beginning to tax him, and the implications were far worse than the strain itself.
