"I think I second that objection," Erskine jumped in. "For multiple reasons, but the first and foremost being that I most certainly am not too young for you, Grand Mage. Any gap in the years can easily be made up for by the fact that I'm clearly mature enough for someone to believe I'd make a good Elder."

"It is right there in the name," Saracen agreed with a smile that only barely could be called patronising. "And if it means not having to be subjected to my father's frightening new exploits, I'm all for it."

"Your father," said Skulduggery, "has spent the last century with no one but Rover for company. What makes you think you won't be?"

Saracen groaned and fell back against the floor, only belatedly careful not to accidentally move out of his circle; he twitched back up with a start when he realised, but nothing happened. The chalked lines were still saturated with shades of red in amongst the gold, and Ghastly could still feel his irritation mounting. One of the only things that made that irritation bearable was looking at Skulduggery and knowing that the change in him was so prominent as to be visible, even in his skeletal frame. Something about the way he held himself; his skull was higher, his movements came more easily.

Skulduggery's head turned questioningly toward him. It was easier than Ghastly would have thought to smile back. "How does it feel?"

The fact that Skulduggery didn't even need to pause before answering was all the answer Ghastly needed. "Freeing. Very freeing."