Helena refused to accept it. Her mind, trained in the rigid discipline of magical theory, recoiled against the impossibility of his claim.
'Impossible,' she screamed internally. 'The laws of mana do not bend to mere will.'
'They bend to structure... And I understand the structure!'
With a guttural scream of defiance that tore at her throat, she forced her consciousness to spark. She didn't need her hands; she would use raw, unfiltered intent.
A Flame Lance flared into existence in the air beside her temple, a needle of concentrated crimson fury. It was a perfect spell: thin, aerodynamic, and devastatingly fast.
It hissed through the air toward Rex's sternum like a bullet.
Halfway there, it simply... died.
There was no explosion. No dissipating smoke.
The red light simply vanished as if someone had pinched the wick of a candle, the magical energy neutralized before it could even register as heat. The last pathetic wisps of ember were scattered by the wind like ash.
