Destruction is an Art

Upon receiving my command, Ronan raised his hand, fingers curling like a conductor ready to orchestrate a deadly symphony. The runic fire traps he had meticulously placed throughout the warehouse were primed, waiting for his signal.

He snapped his fingers.

At first, nothing happened. A brief silence hung in the air—then, in the distance, an explosion ripped through the far end of the warehouse. The force sent a sharp ringing through my ears, and that was the furthest one from us. The blast sent crates flying, splintering wood, and shaking the very foundations of the decrepit building, threatening to send it crashing down on top of us. It was entirely possible that not for the first time, I had underestimated the raw destructive force of my parasitic companion.