"Did... did I break something?" he asked, voice hoarse. The raw fear in his eyes made Amberine's heart twist. It was a question that cut deeper than it sounded, his anxious tone suggesting he might have torn open some irreparable rift.
She swallowed, stepping close enough to rest a firm but reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No," Amberine said gently, her own breath still unsteady from the tension of moments before. "You just surprised us." She kept her voice warm and certain, as though her confidence could anchor him to the calm they were slowly regaining.
He looked up, uncertain, dark eyes flicking from her face to the orb of emotion still faintly glowing in her other hand, then to the faint residue of magic that drifted around the cracked chalk glyphs. The few children who had remained inside—or who'd lingered at the doorway—murmured nervously, shifting from foot to foot in hushed fascination.
