On the western side, Phaedra closed her eyes as she finally prepared to make a move.
She did it slowly, without any sign of effort, hanging in the air with her great silver wings spread. Beneath the pale skin of her chest, two kernels burned: one bright and plain, and one so deep and so still that looking at it made the eye want to slide away.
Around her, the battle went on, the roar of phantoms, the crack of walls, the hiss of the Red Hour across the snow. But one by one, the beings nearest to her stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her, because her stillness had become something worse than all of it.
Thessaly saw her sister's eyes close, and the grin left her face. "Sister," she said quietly. "Here? Now? Dont destroye anything we are meant to save!"
"We were meant to bring the Shards home," Phaedra said. "This is how. Stand back."
Thessaly drew back a full wingspan's distance and did not say another word.
