Silas steps away from the table and gently raises one hand above the burned gifts, his fingers spreading as countless silver runes bloom across his palm. People stare as his mana flows outward in slow, delicate waves, carefully brushing against the charred remains without disturbing them.
Unlike ordinary tracking spells that searched for physical traces, Silas's magic followed mana itself. Every spell ever cast left behind a unique signature, as recognizable to a sorcerer as great as he is. Because every magic is like a person's handwriting, it has a trademark and distinct features.
Even after Sienna-Rose's protective magic had completely destroyed the curses, tiny fragments of their creator's mana still clung stubbornly to the scorched artifacts. The silver runes brightened.
