Veil's wand flared—
—a thread of violet light lanced forward, thin as a hair and sharp as a scream.
It struck the training dummy square in the chest.
There was no explosion. No shattering.
Just a soft, shivering pop—and the entire dummy folded inward on itself like collapsing paper, leaving behind a drifting puff of cold ash.
The silence afterward was so absolute it felt like the air had forgotten how to breathe.
Aria exhaled slowly. A smile curved across her lips, quiet and dangerous. "…Perfect."
Fenric's gaze flicked to Veil, then to her, the faintest glint of approval slicing like frost through moonlight. "Controlled. Surgical. Lethal."
Veil lowered its wand with a whisper of cloth, eyes dimming back to that soft steady glow—like coals that had decided to think instead of burn.
