"And what exactly is that?" Konnar asked, glancing at Alastair, who shook his head minutely.

"Fiction," he said. "In this universe, at least. Air spirits from the work of Paracelsus. Sixteenth century."

Raiden had sat down on the couch on Arden's other side and was now steadily making his way through the chocolates. You'd had your chance, Arden.