Ethan's heart clenched hard in his chest.
A monstrous pull surged through the air.
The sand beneath his boots lifted in streams, his armor shrieking as it scraped against itself.
"Fall back!" he barked, grabbing Feylora's arm and yanking her toward him.
Around them, soldiers shouted in alarm, struggling against the invisible force dragging them forward.
The wind howled like a beast unleashed.
Above, Elira and Caelith remained suspended in the air, not resisting the pull—instead, they seemed to draw strength from it. Their auras flared, growing sharper, heavier.
It was a dangerous power. But it was also… seductive.
"This energy leaking from the rift…" Ethan muttered, eyes locked on the swirling vortex. "To beings at their level, it's a tonic. But to us—"
He gritted his teeth. "It's a furnace."
They fought their way back, step by step, until they finally broke free of the vortex's edge.
