Whatever she was touching with her technique was too large to disrupt at the level she was operating. Like trying to redirect a river with her hands.
She cut the technique off cleanly and stood straight.
"Everyone stop," she said.
Her voice carried command authority that overrode combat instinct. The remaining active attacks ceased. Crystals dimmed. The balcony became quiet except for the wind.
Six witches stood in various states of depleted reserves and disrupted composure. One had a nosebleed from the backlash of the broken containment web. Korren was visibly unsteady, her crystal dark. Even Tae, the most controlled of them, had her hands pressed flat against her thighs to stop the shaking.
Jaenor stood in the middle of it all without a single mark.
His clothing was slightly disheveled from forty floors of wind. That was the complete extent of visible impact from six witches fighting at full capacity.
He looked at Modriana.
She looked back at him.
