“What do you know of hybrid casters? Those able to use multiple types of magic?” “I know your keeper became one through years of torturous experimentation,” he muses, sampling the potatoes. “Otherwise, it is highly uncommon.” Baelfire cuts straight through his plate with his dinner knife, his expression stormy as his eyes shift to dragon slits. He covers his face, trying to calm down. “Boo,” he says roughly, clearly wanting answers. “He's making it sound worse than it is.”
