Round 11

Tension fractures the night air like glass when the beam sweeps across them. Jeane's magic pulses brighter, tendrils tightening around Hera's thrashing form. The civilian woman's scream is choked off mid-note by the sorcerer's spell, her face a rictus of terror and pain. Two figures step out of the vehicle—authorities in dark uniforms, their presence a sudden chill against the heat of Jeane's power.