Crizz stumbled free from the pull, his limbs trembling as though they had been submerged in ice water for hours.
His breath came in ragged bursts, panic etched deep into his features, but instinct screamed at him to get as far from that swirling cloud of destruction as possible. He didn't look back.
The moment his boots hit clear ground beyond the churning smoke, he bolted, practically tripping over his own feet, his robes dragging like chains behind him.
The sound of his retreating footsteps was frantic, mismatched—a far cry from the proud stride he had worn when approaching Vonjo earlier.
The gate area was dead silent save for the slow settling of dust.
The thick veil of smoke still swirled where Vonjo had been buried under that crushing wave of attacks.
Teachers stood with hands still faintly glowing from the remnants of their curse techniques, their breathing uneven, their eyes straining against the haze.
