"You have many choices. We all do. The question is whether you are able to make the right ones," Lysander said as he stepped into the practice room and slid the door closed behind him.
His gaze drifted around the empty room, then over the place where Mallin's conduit would have hung on his belt if he still had it.
Mallin suddenly felt like he was a child again, and his ever-observant brother had caught him sneaking sweets before dinner, right after Sacha had opened the pantry for him. He resisted the urge to hide his hands in his pockets so Lysander wouldn't notice the redness from his failed attempts at being even a fraction of the magic-wielder either of his brothers were, but it was pointless.
"I suppose my choices aren't right unless they are the ones you would make." Mallin turned and strode to the center of the room as if preparing to spar with his nonexistent energy.
Is there hope?