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... olite whistle. To any seasoned mage, it looked as ordinary as a butter knife at a dragon's banquet. No explosions, no ear-splitting booms, no fireworks worthy of a festival—just a neat, precise shot.

No magic power was wasted, and there wasn't a shred of earth-shattering might behind it. It was basically the magical equivalent of a polite tap on the shoulder.

The arrow aimed squarely at Medivh.

If a wizard in any standard wizarding company fired this ice arrow on a battle ...

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