The green alchemical fire did not burn like normal flames. It did not just consume the wooden market stalls and the dry thatched roofs; it actively devoured the oxygen in the air.
Elara and Megan were backed into a narrow, dead-end alleyway just off the eastern edge of the main square. The roaring wall of green fire completely blocked the exit, trapping them in a space no larger than a horse stall.
The heat was absolutely suffocating. The cobblestones beneath their boots were cracking under the intense temperature.
Megan fell to her knees, coughing violently. Her heavy iron armor, usually her greatest advantage, was now cooking her alive. She dropped her broadsword, tearing at the leather straps of her breastplate with shaking hands.
"Damn it," Megan choked out, spitting black soot onto the ground. "Cant breathe."
