By the time Ollivan’s cart arrived at the Donmagh library and residence, the joint buildings were ashy skeletons in the grass, enveloped in angry red-orange flames.
Connor leapt from the back of the cart and ran for the wreckage. “Mother! Da!”
Three Imperial guards threw buckets of water on the rapidly deteriorating structure, yet it did nothing to calm the flames. The familiar scent of magic hit him then. Magical fire was not dimmed by regular water. It could burn in the harshest of conditions. Only magic could subdue magic.
This was not one of his accidents.
Someone had done this deliberately….