Crimson Shadows and Silent Threats
"Natasha!" Leon's voice shook with both urgency and gentleness, each syllable weighed down by her anguish. He could sense it—each beat of her magic pulsed like a living thing, crying out in agony and turmoil. "I sense it. I comprehend. But you cannot destroy yourself here. You will not. Not now. Not in this way."
For a long, suspended beat, she looked beyond him, as though hearing something that he could not. The blood magic that had licked her wrists and throat quivered like a hurt bird, tracing the air in thin, trembling red. It wasn't loud; it was the sort of sound that resided beneath the skin and filled the teeth. Gradually, the light relaxed its hold. The red mist thinned, as smoke at last discovers the final crack in a shutter.
