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. Magic coursed through his body and flamed out
of his hands. He watched the fire flare, billow, and engulf
Caramon. When the fighter became a living torch, Raistlin sud-
denly knew from his training that what he was seeing simply could
not be. The instant that he realized something was wrong with this
occurrence, the burning image of his brother vanished. A moment
later, Raistlin lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.
"Awaken, Raistlin, your trials are complete."
Raistlin opened his eyes. The darkness was gone;
sunshine streamed through a window. He lay in a bed. Looking
down at him was the withered face of Par-Salian.
"Why?" Raistlin rasped, clutching at the Mage in fury. "Why
did you do that to me?"
Par-Salian laid his hand on the frail young man's shoulder.
"The gods asked for a sword, Raistlin, and now I can give them
one-you. Evil is coming upon the land. The fate of all this world
called Krynn swings in the balance. Through the aid of your hand
and others, the balance will be restored."
Raistlin stared, then laughed, briefly and bitterly. "Save Krynn?
How? You have shattered my body. I can't even see properly!" He
stared in terror . . .
. . . For, as Raistlin watched, he could see the Mage's face
dying. When he turned his gaze to the window, the stones he
looked at crumbled before his eyes. Wherever he looked,
everything was falling into ruin and decay. Then, the moment
passed, and his vision cleared
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