The auction house stood as a blazing skeleton behind them, its grand pillars now cracked and blackened, flames licking upward into the smoke-choked sky. Screams had long faded into silence, replaced by the crackle of fire and the occasional collapsing beam.
Dazamer stood at the forefront, Zynara beside him, arms crossed, bathed in the flickering orange light.
Then, through the flames, she emerged.
Rahna strode out of the inferno like a vengeful war goddess—bloodied, unbent, and still burning with golden mana. Behind her, a group of frightened but now-free beastkin slaves followed in her wake, chains broken, eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear.
Dazamer began to clap slowly, a delighted smirk on his face.
"That was stellar work," he said, voice rich with amusement. "Truly breathtaking, Rahna. You're absolutely stunning—as expected of a hero."
Rahna's teeth clenched visibly. Her golden eyes flicked toward him, glowing faintly.
