Witch Yasoria looked back at Zevryn while hissing with the sharp pain that was coursing through her hand, her lips curling as though the sting had bitten deep into her very bones.
It wasn't the kind of pain born from physical wounds, it burned like it was woven from pure magic itself, an ancient ward striking her down for daring to trespass near its limits.
"Elder Yasoria! Are you fine?!" She heard Kaelith's urgent voice cut through the haze of pain. His footsteps were quick and heavy against the floor, and in a heartbeat he was beside her, reaching out to steady her trembling form.
His strong hands slipped under her arm, lifting her gently from the cold ground. His sharp eyes, usually calculating and unreadable, darted rapidly across the chamber, scanning every shadow for any lurking presence that might have caused the blow.
