"There's another weave of thread here, it's agitating us on purpose." Markos projected to the others. Caelyn and Markos's protection sigils etched onto their armor burned a vibrant red in warning of a danger they already knew. It was too late to avoid it.
Iliana raised her hands up in front of her, pressing knuckle against knuckle. Her eyes blazed as magical energy hissed in the air around them. "I can sense it, there," she grit her teeth as she tore invisible fabric asunder in between her hands. "Begone wrathful heart. Lift thy haze of pain."
The ghastly voices howled as a burst of cold air burst out from Iliana, the heat receeding.
Caelyn slammed Vladimars to the ground, pinning him as he held a sword against his throat. "No more tricks," he growled.
