The fireball swelled in Alaric's palm, growing from ember to inferno. Orange light painted the rain-soaked street in hellish hues.
The coachman took one look at the roiling sphere of flame and made his decision.
He leaped from his seat and ran, boots splashing through puddles, abandoning his passengers without a second thought.
"Move!" Kelard roared.
Renard was already moving, threw himself from the carriage door, hitting the cobblestones in a roll just as—
WHOOSH!
The fireball struck.
The carriage exploded. Wood splintered. Metal shrieked. The horses, still in harness, screamed as flame consumed the vehicle. One broke free, galloping wildly into the darkness. The other collapsed, burning.
Kelard shielded his mother on the ground as debris rained down around them.
Smoke. Fire.
The stench of burning wood and flesh.
Renard pushed himself up, coughing, his ears ringing from the blast.
Then suddenly—
[Jolt Step!]
Lightning crackled.
Alaric materialized in front of him.
