The river tore itself open with a sound like the world breaking.
Water rose in spirals, hissing and boiling, light twisting off its surface as if the sun itself had fallen inside it. Men stumbled backward, shouting prayers. The crowned man stood calm, one hand lifted in command, as something vast and black pulled free from the depths.
At first it looked like shadow, slick and formless. Then it took shape — a giant figure of molten water and ash, veins pulsing red beneath a dark, glass-like skin. Its eyes were two burning coals fixed directly on me.
Liora’s voice cut through the roar. “Kael—what is that?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The air stank of sulfur and salt, and every breath filled my mouth with heat. My hands were still burning, not with pain but with a strange, steady rhythm
