"How did you do it?" Negin asked, her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Arran.
"Do what?" Arran replied absently.
They were on the very edge of the battlefield, where the barren ground already showed the occasional signs of a cataclysmic battle — gaping wounds in the earth, hundreds of paces long and deep enough to fully hide even a tall man.
Yet while the sight was striking, Arran's attention was fully focused on his Sense.
This close to the battlefield, the roar of unbound Essence was strong enough that it was beginning to interfere with his Sense. More and more, it was beginning to crowd out his ability to detect anything else, overwhelming his Sense like the rumble of a raucous crowd might overwhelm his hearing.
His sword, however, fared much better. Unlike Arran, it was somehow able to distinguish between all the different sources of Essence it detected, and it welcomed them with an eagerness that almost seemed giddy.
