Emma stepped forward and drew the heat inward like a furnace drawing breath. Flames wound around her like living ropes, building pressure that warped the air. The smell of scorched ozone and hot metal thickened. "Fey, wrap us. Make the liquid a conduit, not a cage. Guide the blast away from the weapon emplacement." Her voice, while fierce, had the calm of someone who'd already chosen the cost.
Fey's expression hardened. She pushed her liquid into a tight, braided sheath under Lea's feet and around Emma like a channeling river. The liquid didn't merely shield, Fey sculpted it into vents and curves, engineering the path the energy would take when released. "I'll control the flow. Don't let it scatter," she warned, voice taut.
Lea planted both feet, shoulders squared, and took the role of physical dam, ready to punch the concussive force into a focused vector. "When you say go, Emma, hit hard. I'll redirect anything stray. Fey will keep that conduit open."
