It Would Be A Waste

Isadora gave him a look that meant she knew nothing. The poor girl was about to go into the challenge blindly, a disadvantage the other warriors didn't have.

He cleared his throat and sat on the bed, grinning ear to ear as his fingers pressed together.

Isadora couldn't help but think that he looked like a child ready to reveal something fun. It was not exactly how she pictured him.

"There is an order of things in this Realm," he began. "The gods blessed us with tamed beasts millennia ago. To train us in the weaving ways that got passed from generation to generation… until weavers were born naturally," he explained. "Each of these beasts represents the elements of every weaver."

"But the untamed beasts…" he drew sharply on his breath, almost dramatic for what he was about to say next. "They are savage creatures, even a Fae cannot survive a battle with them."

"Are you saying the last challenge involves fighting such beasts?"