The air changed.
One moment Sylas stood across the fire, his eyes locked on Soren's, the next, something invisible yet overwhelming poured from him like a flood breaking through a dam.
The campfire guttered and shrank, flames bending away as if fleeing his presence. The very air grew heavy, pressing down with the weight of an ocean.
Soren's lungs seized. His vision swam. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to escape the crushing pressure that threatened to collapse his chest.
Around him, men staggered like drunkards. A Lanther knight dropped to one knee, face contorted in silent agony. Another clawed at his throat as if drowning on dry land.
The horses screamed, a sound Soren had never heard before, primal terror stripped of any restraint. Several broke their tethers, bolting blindly into the darkness.
