The festival turned to chaos.
Market stalls splintered as the river serpent surged through the streets, water crashing against stone walls. Its body shimmered like liquid glass, but its eyes burned with crimson fire. Each strike of its tail shattered paving stones, sending shards flying.
"Aric!" Mira cried, dragging him toward a narrow bridge.
But the serpent followed, its maw opening wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth made of river-stone.
Instinct, not thought, drove Aric. The fire inside him roared, spilling from his hands in a blaze of molten light. Flames struck the serpent's face, steam exploding in a hiss.
The beast recoiled but did not fall. Around them, the people of Caelthorn screamed, soldiers rushed forward, their spears useless against water given flesh.
Edran's staff lit with runes as he shouted, "Bind it to the river! Aric—draw the fire through me!"
For a heartbeat, Aric hesitated. But the fire surged too strong to resist. It leapt into Edran's staff, and together their power lanced like lightning into the beast's chest.
With a shriek like breaking ice, the serpent dissolved, crashing back into the river as nothing but foam.
The square fell silent—then erupted in cheers. Yet Aric saw only the fear in the magisters' eyes, watching from their high balconies.