The Flames Of Judgements.

Ace's flames stretch across the chamber, curling like living tendrils, sealing every possible exit.

The heat is thick, humming in the air, yet the fire does not consume the walls, nor does it spread without purpose.

It moves as he commands, coiling protectively around him, whispering against his skin but never harming him.

The witches in the room, however, are not as fortunate.

They know they are trapped.

The flickering blue light casts long shadows, distorting their frightened expressions.

They don't dare move, their gazes darting between Ace and their leader, caught between fear of punishment and a desperate, silent question, 'what now?'

Ace stands tall, his posture unwavering despite the weight of everything pressing against him.

His power, the very essence of what makes him who he is, crackles around him in defiance.

These witches sought to break him, to weaken him, to suppress what they did not understand.