K's attack hit
and everything went white.
But instead of tearing through flesh, bone, and the girl he swore — instinctively, irrationally to protect…
…it bent.
Not outward.
Not sideways.
But around them.
As if the world itself refused to let Khael die.
Or let Ceyla be touched.
The white glare thinned, fractured, then spiraled into a vortex of violet and silver.
It coiled like a serpent, then snapped its fangs toward the ground, carving a crater that wasn't supposed to be there.
K's eyes widened the first real break in his composure.
"What—?"
The redirected blast detonated behind them, shattering the ridge into floating shards of earth.
Khael felt his knees buckle as the power tore through him.
It wasn't a technique he knew.
Wasn't a shield he cast.
Wasn't a miracle granted by the heavens.
It was instinct.
A Dragon's instinct.
Ceyla felt his arms around her loosen, but she didn't fall she grabbed him, holding him upright.
