Aether blasted inward, furious, and a cyclone of wild wind blasted out in unconscious retaliation.
Chandeliers shattered, walls crumbled, entire murals were torn, and weapons snapped off belts, clanging to the floor.
The crowd screamed, shields, spells, runes, and abilities coming up too slow.
The only safe direction was forward, the Golden Throne.
Him.
Malik.
Still sitting, wrapped in chains... untouched by all.
She didn't attack that way. She'd never.
That was impossible for her now.
Even when without control.
But everything else?
Pure devastation.
The sky itself seemed to come crashing down.
Protective runes couldn't do much against a Mithqal; not much could.
A whole second after the explosion, everyone managed to scramble up a defense, Holy Relics sparking to life just in time, barely keeping most of them intact.
The lucky ones hid behind summoned shields.
The unlucky ones bled deep.
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
And still, she screamed.
