"Can you make the shape clearer?" Malachi asked, resting his hands against the stone table.
Terra shook her head. "The earth is not a magic looking glass, Malachi. Stone doesn't record portraits. It absorbs weight, friction, body heat, and whatever energy leaks out of someone when their boots hit the ground. You are looking at an impression left in the stone, not a painting."
I leaned closer, squinting at the emerald light pulsing across the polished rock.
The glowing shapes looked like two heat signatures trapped under glass. One was unmistakably Liora. The outline was small and light on its feet, stepping quickly on the balls of its toes with that bouncy rhythm she always had when she thought she was smarter than everyone else. Little tendrils of pale blue light swirled around her ankles in the stone, showing the faint residue of water magic and charm compulsions.
