Cassian POV
The smell of burnt magic clings to the air long after the last witch turns to ash.
I stand in the middle of the clearing, staring at the devastation Sarafina unleashed. The forest floor is blackened, the earth cracked where celestial power tore through the ground like a bolt from the heavens. Charred leaves drift slowly through the air.
I have seen powerful magic before, but nothing like this.
Nothing that erased an entire coven in seconds.
Only one witch remains. The Elder.
She kneels among the ashes of her fallen coven, surrounded by the dust of people who were alive moments ago. Her robes are torn, her gray hair hanging loose around her shoulders, but she doesn't look afraid.
Behind me, I hear Sarafina crying.
The sound cuts deeper than any blade.
I glance back briefly.
Alistair is holding her tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as if letting go would break her. Lyra kneels beside them, murmuring soft words meant to calm her.
