The battle at the pond dragged on, but not in the clans' favor. The longer they fought, the worse it became. Their formations broke apart, and those who had charged in with pride were now stumbling out of the fog with blood on their clothes and panic in their eyes. Elementalists who had once shouted boldly were running, their aether drained faster than they could recover it.
Arden stood at the edge of the chaos, arms folded, his eyes never leaving the shape moving in the mist. He wasn't distracted by the screams or the arrogance falling apart. He studied the way the beast moved, the way the fog bent around it, and most importantly, the rhythm of its regeneration.
"They're blind," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Swinging at smoke while feeding the pond more lives."
Rael glanced at him. "You already see a way?"
