A force surged through their minds, an incomprehensible feedback loop that crashed into them with violent intensity. The shockwave sent their consciousness reeling, and before they could even process what had happened—
A sharp, wet cough escaped Yssandra Seraphine's lips. Faelan swayed slightly, his own chest tightening. A bitter taste filled their mouths.
Blood.
Instinctively, they stifled their reactions, swallowing the pain as their rings flared with a soft green glow. The healing magic surged through them, knitting their inner wounds before anyone could notice.
But the damage was done.
They had glimpsed nothing, yet suffered as if they had dared to look into something beyond reason.
How do you explain that?
How do you explain that you can look into the secrets of the most dangerous beings in existence—rulers of the realm—yet a teenage dragon had just struck them down with nothing but his mere presence?
Their minds recoiled from the implications.
