Unstable
Lassim finished tying the last knot of his belt, his purple and gold martial robes neatly falling into place. Vaela stood by the door of the room before walking out first and Lassim following shortly after.
They stepped out of the inn into the cooling twilight. The sun had dipped behind the dunes by now, leaving the sky a deepening shade of purple, casting the desert in a serene, almost otherworldly light. The village was quiet now, the earlier battle only a memory, and the rogue cultivators locked up under Vaela's orders.
They moved to an open area just outside the village, where Vaela stretched her arms out, drawing her lance into existence from her inner heart world with a faint crackle of lightning. "Alright, so I think it's better if I show you more than just explaining it. It should be easier. Watch closely," she said, as she started channeling her lightning mana.