Fen.
The fire burned too bright. It twisted around us like an insatiable beast, its flames rising higher with each breath I took, licking at my skin, trying to consume me. But there was something deeper beneath the fire—something colder, something far darker—that gnawed at my very core.
I could feel Elsbeth beside me, her presence a steady anchor in the swirling chaos, but the fire... the fire was not something I could fight with just my strength alone. And she... she had changed. I could feel it in the air, in the very fabric of her power, as if the energy between us had shifted, reformed, become something far stronger.
The Watcher's eyes gleamed with malice, and her laugh—a twisted, broken sound—was a symphony of madness. I could feel her hatred, her contempt, like a living thing in the air. She raised her hand again, and this time, the flames were not just a weapon—they were an extension of her will, a manifestation of the terror she intended to unleash.
