Muninn's anguished shrieks haunted the dust-laden throne room, chilling Sylvie's and the elven council's blood.
However, a shadow stirred beneath the fuming rubble of the collapsed eastern walls. His red figure struggled, blood marring his limbs as he cursed under his breath.
"Adepts are in another league, damn it. That last spell... It almost vaporised me." He shuddered as he shoved aside the several hundred kilograms of wood burying him.
Then, his eyes trembled as the worst scenarios flashed in his weary mind. Did his lord survive the blast? His breath caught in his throat as the question rumbled. Yet, what had happened in the last second before light engulfed the room resurfaced.
Adam hadn't dodged. He couldn't have with his velocity. Instead, he had... He staggered, confused about what he had seen.
"He encased himself in a scalding cocoon of chaotic flames. I know he's resistant to heat, but this?"