Ignivara's gaze drifted away from Rex, sweeping across the devastation of the plaza. She saw Morwenna, pinned to the cracked earth by the invisible, crushing weight of gravity; she saw Valentina, still on her knees, her breathing ragged and her spirit visibly frayed by the sheer violence of the morning.
The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the ozone of spent magical energy.
"Tremor did this," Ignivara said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.
"Tremor did most of it," Rex agreed, his tone as matter-of-fact as a man describing the weather.
Ignivara turned back to him.
Her eyes were narrowed, her intellect working at a fever pitch. She spoke with the terrifying precision of a grandmaster calculating a move that could either win the game or end in a bloody stalemate.
