Ruined Flesh, Mended Loyalties

Seisyll moved with the inevitability of wildfire.

The masked omnimancer never had a chance.

He conjured shields of layered light, arcing barriers designed to absorb impact. Seisyll didn't care. The first blast wasn't even to kill, it was to test. A cone of fire so dense it melted the outer edge of the mage's light like butter against steel. The man flinched, threw another wall wide.

Seisyll stepped through it.

He didn't step around, or over, but straight through.

The heat warped everything. The ground, the air, the sounds themselves. With every breath, fire surged from Seisyll's mouth in short, convulsive bursts. His steps weren't fast, but they cut the distance like time had yielded to rage.

He pointed two fingers, and a spear of condensed flame, thin as a needle and white at the center, pierced the next barrier cleanly. It struck the healer's shoulder and kept going, boring a hole through his flesh, charring bone, setting his robe alight.