Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The flare of mana was too violent, too sharp—unrestrained fury coiling outward in a wave of violet pressure, knocking over trays and rattling lanterns. The air shimmered as if a furnace had opened mid-square, and a few bystanders instinctively raised weak barriers, shielding themselves from the backlash.
Someone shouted from the edge of the gathering: "Stop him!"
"That level of mana—he's going to kill someone!"
Aurelian stepped forward, his voice sharp. "Enough! He's just a mercenary, that attack could—!"
Selphine's hand moved too, not to stop Aurelian, but to reinforce him. If they had to intercept this, they'd do it together.
But they didn't take more than two steps before three uniformed figures moved in front of them—blocking the way.
The sigils on their cloaks shimmered with authority: House Crane.
One of them, a senior attendant with graying temples, raised his hand toward Aurelian and Selphine.
