Everything was dark. The black filth of the curses roiled in tangible swells, smothering me as though I'd fallen into the darkest depths of the ocean. The paving stones against my back shivered before the onslaught, the protective magic corroding away and leaving the rock so brittle it cracked beneath its own weight.
The curse attacked my soul directly, but the blazing warmth of Adaptive Resistance devoured the endless strands of runes as they came. I could feel a similar strength within Trithe, consuming the curse that afflicted her as well as protecting her from the seventh-circle spell. The clash of the two forces created a cyclonic pressure that stirred our hair and clothes.
