Chapter 38

The air in the Sentinel ruin was thick with the smell of scorched stone and the sharp, metallic tang of mana. Elara pivoted, her feet scraping against the uneven floor as she ducked beneath a concentrated blast of wind from Isabelle. She didn't stop to think; she let her instincts, sharpened by the fifty levels she had clawed through since joining this group, take over. She lunged toward Emma Quinn, weaving through a flurry of embers. Elara could hold her own now, lasting minutes where she...