It wasn't a common sound. In fact, Riley would argue it wasn't a sound anyone should be familiar with, unless they wanted it carved into their nightmares.
But when it happened, that was all he could think of.
A whoosh.
Then silence.
Like every single breath of air had been vacuumed out of the hall. The world held still for the span of a heartbeat, and then came the deafening roar of raw power exploding outward.
Riley thought he was about to see the light.
Or, if the universe felt particularly vindictive, one of the eighteen levels of hell. Which level? Well, probably the one reserved for overpaid interns and idiots who would call the dragon lord "honey."
But when the blast hit, Riley realized he wasn't going to die from the sheer force of it. No, he was going to die from something far worse.
The pain.
It wasn't his. At least, it couldn't be. It was too much, too jagged, too overwhelming.
