Hyran and Aeron both flinched, teeth gritted. Their Hidden Flame marks felt like hot iron was being pressed on their skin.
Maelor was too busy looking at the lake to notice.
He stood at the waterline, staring at the churning, icy-black water where the tentacle had disappeared. The lake hissed, seething with dark energy and cold that felt like it could stop a heart on contact.
The three mages exchanged a glance. All wearing the exact same expression: absolutely, categorically, under no circumstances.
"I have limits," Maelor said, staring at the water.
"I'd be in the way," Hyran confirmed.
Aeron nodded once. "We hold the shore."
Beneath the surface, the water was a nightmare. Black. Freezing. Alive with something ancient and furious that had been sleeping under this lake for longer than the temple had stood.
