The blinding white light from the stone consumed everything. I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel anything except the raw energy coursing through my body. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd died. Then the light began to fade, and sensation returned to my limbs.
I was still standing, somehow. The stone against my skin had cooled, but it pulsed with a gentle warmth, like a heartbeat.
When my vision cleared, I saw the Abbess several feet away, sprawled on the ground, her black robes smoking. Around the chamber, the remaining Night Weaver cultists lay motionless or writhing weakly, their dark enchantments visibly dissolving into mist.
"Isabella!" Alaric rushed to my side, his hands running over my face, my shoulders, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
I looked down at myself, surprised to find no wounds. "I'm... fine. Just tired." My legs trembled beneath me, and I leaned into Alaric's strength.
