The world seemed to slow as Silver Clara raised her hand, power crackling around her slender fingers. I held my breath, every muscle in my body tensed for whatever would come next.
"My destiny is my own to choose," she repeated, her voice thundering through the chamber.
Then she turned—not toward me and Clara as I'd hoped, but not toward the Abbess either. Instead, she directed her palm at the Night Weavers gathered along the far wall.
"You would use me as a weapon," she said, her silver eyes flashing. "Then taste the power you so desperately sought to control!"
A blast of raw energy erupted from her hand, striking the cultists with devastating force. Their screams were cut short as the magical wave flung them against the stone walls. The convent trembled violently, dust and small chunks of ceiling raining down.
The Abbess's triumphant smile faltered, replaced by confusion and then rage. "What are you doing? They are your servants!"
