"Chaos supplies adaptive flexibility," Draven said. "Necromancy supplies structural memory."
He opened his palm further.
Two currents appeared in the air.
One was black-violet, dense as ink in water. It formed skeletal geometry—lines that locked into triangles, triangles into lattices, lattices into something that looked like a spine made of equations. Stable. Cold. Heavy.
The other was wild turbulence: shifting colors that refused to settle. It flickered through greens and blues and strange hues Amberine couldn't name, like emotion given physics. It spun, broke apart, reformed, changed shape again. It was alive in the way storms were alive.
The currents drifted toward each other.
The crowd held its breath.
Amberine felt the tension ripple through the amphitheater like a synchronized muscle contraction.
They expected collision.
They expected annihilation.
