The sky cracked with a pulse of flame.
Even from miles out, I saw it. A great, spiraling plume of smoke rising from the town—deep purple, tinged with an oily shimmer that made my skin crawl. The kind of color that should not belong to fire. The kind of color that whispered curses into the air.
From the saddle of his steed, Alexander reeled his horse to a sudden halt. His knights followed, momentarily stunned by the unnatural haze bleeding across the dusk horizon. No one spoke. We all knew what that was.
"Damn it all," Alexander muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw. He didn't need confirmation. He'd seen that shade before—I'd seen that shade before. The Well had warned him, and it was happening. Just like it said it would.
"Gale... you fool."
