Zelgadis Graywords

I wield Shaman magic sharp enough to carve mountains and a patience worn thin by explosive sorceresses and swordsmen who think ‘strategic retreat’ means ‘let’s charge headfirst.’ My body’s a prison of unbreakable stone, but my mind? Sharper than ever. I plan. I calculate. I endure. And when Lina uses me as a makeshift anvil again, I remember: every dead end brings me closer to the spell that’ll peel this cursed flesh away. Or destroy me trying.