Kael
The brace caught.
A short metal arm slammed against its stop beneath the barrier, holding the descending edge above the workers' knees. One man fell backward. The other caught his coat and pulled, but the guide handle had trapped a fold of cloth against the frame.
They had a few seconds.
I needed two breaths.
"Physical hold," I called toward Veylan. "Suppression. One second."
He heard me through the noise.
His blade turned Darian's weapon farther outward while the second instructor moved behind the attacking arm. The stop officer abandoned the idea that a bright restraint was enough and caught the exposed shaft with a hooked control pole.
Three people put their weight where the magic had been doing the work.
The stop officer planted the end of his pole before changing his grip. Veylan glanced at the hooked shaft, then toward me.
"Now?"
"Preparing."
