"What is the meaning of this, First Sun, Malrik Wargrave?"
Cindralis' voice echoed from above, calm and resonant, carrying neither anger nor perplexity. She had lived too long, seen too much, endured centuries upon centuries of change and destruction, to be swayed easily by emotions such as wrath or confusion. Her words held only authority, the detached steel of one who regarded herself as sovereign beyond reproach.
The atmosphere shifted. Energy spiked violently, heat climbing higher and higher until it seemed the very concept of hotness, the very definition of temperature, bent and bowed to the will of the one who commanded it. The air shimmered, space distorted, and the fabric of the Separate Dimension threatened to unravel beneath the pressure of powers colliding.
