The tactical net Varin wove was a brutal, beautiful thing. It was not the cold, algorithmic efficiency Kael would have designed, but something alive and ferocious. Varin didn'tt give orders; he sang a war chant in a low, resonant voice, and the city answered.
Guards with tower shields of enchanted oak formed the first layer, their shields slamming into the cobblestones not just with physical force, but with a deep thrum of warding magic that made the air thick. Behind them, adepts—men and women with the same golden, if fainter, nimbus as Varin—began a low chant. Their hands moved in unison, and threads of light spun from their fingertips, weaving a crackling net of energy in the air above the square. It was a containment field, a cage of pure force.
